Directors Cut
by Hartabound
Summary: Modern P&P. Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy are actors working on a 19th Century film adaption, suffice to say all does not go according to plan!
1. The things one really ought not to hear

**Directors Cut**

'_Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are actors working on a costume drama for the big screen- the 19th century novel calls for passion between an impoverished painter and his young muse, but with our modern day heroine hateful of our misunderstood hero, can a first time director bring them together and ever hope to pull this off…'_

**Part 1 '…the things we really ought not to hear…'**

Elizabeth felt sick; she breathed sharply and hung onto the sink for dear life. What was she doing here, she asked for herself the hundredth time…how in the world had Jane managed to talk her into this?

She was no screen actress, so what was she thinking going for a part like this, and aside from that to play opposite the famous Fitzwilliam Darcy, his intensity and passion would laugh her off the screen. She had had moderate success on the stage and though the reviews had been entirely favourable, the play was independent enough to ensure it was seen by only a handful.

But she had agreed despite herself, knowing better she had let Jane, her sister and her agent to answer the call for fresh, talented actresses. Still she had made it through three readings already; surely she couldn't be all that bad? Now things were getting serious, now it mattered and as the latest wave of nausea passed over her, Elizabeth gathered all her last remaining resolve and headed out of the toilets.

It was the reading opposite Darcy that was unnerving her, everything she had read about him, all that she had seen of his work ensured that he was the upcoming star they all raved about. It also ensured that fresh faced, newbie Elizabeth Bennet, had a schoolgirl crush on the handsome Adonis. She was not ashamed of it; at least she was not an obsessive like some of the girls auditioning out there. She cringed inwardly at the words of Melissa, who had stated in no uncertain circumstances, her intention to take a lock of his hair by whatever means necessary.

In this train of thought she stalked the corridor outside the dressing rooms pacing up and down, wholly occupied with various scenes from the book that when she heard steps approaching her at no remarkable distance, it was much too late. Voices confirmed at least one of them to be Darcy…a panicked Elizabeth terrified of being seen and having to talk to him ridiculously unprepared, made a beeline for the nearest room. She prayed it was empty as she turned the handle and slipped inside…it was, she headed for the clothes rack, overflowing as it was it could be the only place to offer any concealment.

She heard them stood outside talking and thinking they were about to leave, prepared to slip out unnoticed. Her heart was practically in her throat when she realised they were not moving on, but someone was opening the door of the room she was hiding in! No…surely it couldn't be…but yes it was, in her haste she failed to notice the name on the door, this was Darcy's dressing room!

Crouching lower and cursing her stupidity, she resolved not to listen to their conversation. But it would prove difficult, his voice, smooth and gentle and filled with generous humour, was velvet to her ears, it washed over her and with a silly grin plastered on her face, Lizzy realised she was even in love with his voice!

Elizabeth would have done better to shut her ears; the conversation would not prove to be to her liking. Darcy was on the phone, there was someone else in the room with him, 'Thank you…Mrs Reynolds for doing your best…I'm sure it'll be fine…the girls probably have first-night nerves…no…no I'm sure she's not being difficult on purpose…look I have to go…I'm sorry…but I promise, as soon as everything is confirmed here…I'll be right back. You're doing a great job… please don't worry and thanks again…yes…bye.'

He let out an exasperated sigh and Lizzy could imagine him shaking his head in frustration, 'Bingley…I swear this whole thing is driving me mad….'

She knew Bingley to be his closest friend and publicist.

'No wonder…do you ever stop…I mean as well as running to and from auditions, you've got that infernal place to keep together as well…Darcy I can't understand why you just don't sell it and be done…'

Darcy laughed quietly, 'I think Mrs Reynolds' does the most of the keeping together of that place…I can't sell it Bingley, you know that…it means too much, there's a history with it…I'm telling you it's destined for great things. Besides Georgiana loves the place, she would never speak to me again.'

Bingley sighed resigned, 'Alright, so what's the latest crisis with the old theatre…?'

Darcy spoke through gritted teeth, 'Oh you know, only the usual, Mrs Reynolds is having trouble persuading some of the other girls in the play to not poison our fair Desdemona for real…'

'Oh no…don't tell me Rita Simmons is up to making her ridiculous demands again…what does she want this time…all the yellow m&m's removed…no wait, let me guess a troupe of dancing midgets in her dressing room…!'

Lizzy was forced to stifle a laugh, while the gentlemen present revelled in the mirth.

'No, worse, now she's intent on giving orders to the costume department, she wants the other girls in the chorus, dressed more drably, less colour so there's less distraction from her star performance…suffice to say the girls aren't happy.'

'I bet…so what're you going to do…I could go up there for you…'

'Ha…no…no way…' Darcy laughed out loud.

Bingley seemed hurt and offended by this sudden outburst, 'what…you don't think I could do it…?'

'I'm sorry Bingley…you're my best friend, and God knows you've managed my career admirably, but someone like Rita Simmons…she'll eat you alive…no, no I have to sort this out myself.'

'I was only trying to help…'

'I know and you'll never know just how thankful I am. I don't know Bingley, what is it with these actresses, I swear as soon as they suspect they've got something between their ears, they turn into these annoying, whining, demanding prima donnas.'

Bingley smiled ruefully, 'Oh come on Darcy…you're being too hard…'

'No I'm telling you it's true. At first I wondered what Harry was thinking, sending out this call for fresh, new talent; with him being a first time director I was sure he wouldn't take any risks, but you know I think he's got the right idea. The less brains they suspect they have the less demands they're likely to make.'

Bingley snorted at this crude analogy.

'Bingley have you seen the girls out there, I walked past their room they were all in there giggling like a bunch of helium filled hyenas. It was awful; it'd be a punishment to act opposite anyone of them. Still, though I doubt he's going to find what he's looking for in them, if Harry does pick an empty headed bimbo, it could only serve to make me look better, right…?'

'You know Darcy; I think I can see why your opinions would make some people call you a complete ass…'

'Really…' Darcy's mock tone of hurt was obvious, 'I always considered my opinions to be refreshingly honest…'

Bingley laughed, 'well you would…'

They left soon after that, leaving a seething Lizzy still hunched up among the clothes rack. She stood up and the cramp in her leg was soon forgotten. If the phrase, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' was ever concocted to describe exactly how a woman felt, well it was a poor substitute for Lizzy's rage. She could not believe how stupid and odiously blind she had been, to have a silly, teenage crush on a man like that! Well, no more…Lizzy Bennet was no-one's fool and certainly not of that arrogant, pompous…vain, self-centred…

Lizzy had stormed out of the room and was heading down the corridor, cursing and stamping as she went; she almost ended up running down her sister. Jane seeing Lizzy coloured a most disturbing shade of red, was about to ask the reason for her obvious distress when she began herself.

'Oh God, how can I have been so stupid, me the world's greatest cynic when it comes to the heart…oh, hateful, spiteful man..!' She was aware of the volte face, her impressions of Darcy had been entirely favourable only a few minutes before, now she did not care to hear or see either him or his friend ever again.

Jane was at a loss to understand whom she meant. 'Lizzy, what's happened…who are you talking about…Lizzy stop, where are you going..?'

Lizzy had stepped passed her and was carrying on down the corridor, quite oblivious to Jane's questions. She had to run to catch up with her, and in doing so grabbed Lizzy by both arms and turned her round to face her.

'Calm down, tell me what this is about…why are you so upset..?' Jane's calm, measured tones seemed to have the desired effect. Lizzy began to breathe slower, and her cursing was limited to at least a word at a time.

'I'm sorry Jane, I can't do this…I just can't. I'm going home…'

Jane stared at her mouth agape, 'No Lizzy you can't…besides you're up to read next…they'll be waiting for you…'

'I'm sorry Jane, tell them I'm ill or something…please make some excuse, I have to get out of here…'

She was shaking, and Jane thought her on the verge of tears, but as keenly as she felt for her sister, Lizzy could not leave. Her voice was therefore unusually stern.

'I will not…Lizzy whatever reservations you have had, you have gotten through three of these readings already, that wouldn't have been possible without talent, which you have masses of. So no, Lizzy, I will not make excuses and you are not leaving, not when we are this close… I won't let you.'

'I can't do it…Jane please…'

'Yes you can…and you owe it to yourself and me to find out…'

Lizzy was at last forced to resign; Jane was not going to give way. She would have to do it, have to stand opposite that man… Darcy, who had mortified her so only minutes before.

Stand and utter lines, words that she was convinced she couldn't speak the way they were meant to, or convey the feeling they expressed. Never had her faith in her own capability been shaken so badly, not even when she had stood throwing up in the bathroom, she had allowed herself a glimmer of hope even then. And what had tested her so, the words and cruel laughter of a man whom she had never met, and who had yet managed to embed himself deep within her, rooted in the darkest place where all thoughts are hateful and voices venomous.

She took a few deep breaths and still shaking but no longer cursing, headed towards the hall where the auditions were being held. A small local theatre had been hired; readings were taking place on stage, in front of the casting crew and, in the masses of seats, if front of just about everyone else. None of the girls had left; those who had already read were sat with those who hadn't, in turns giving encouragement whilst hoping to make eyes with Darcy.

Lizzy entered the stage through a side door, Jane was right, everyone was waiting for her. They all looked towards her anticipating, expecting…Lizzy was glad for Jane who was right behind her and squeezing her hand in sisterly encouragement.

'Miss Bennet…?' A voice boomed out from the front rows, 'Well I'm glad you could finally join us, if you'd care to make your way to the stage…'

'Of course…I'm sorry…' Lizzy was embarrassed.

'Don't be sorry Miss Bennet…just be good…' Lizzy sought in vain for the owner of that voice as she climbed the stage, but the spotlight on her shone so brightly that she would have had to strain to see anything in the darkened seats below; and she didn't want to be accused of having a squint on top of everything else.

She stood bemused until a painful realisation smacked her; she was empty handed, she had left the script on the bathroom sink!

'Here take mine…I know the words well enough by now…' Lizzy looking up foolishly was about to utter a thousand thanks when recognition of her protagonist stopped her short…Darcy.

She snatched it from him ungratefully, barely looked him in the eye and turned her attention wholly to the paper in front of her. He seemed amazed at her affront, and she suspected he rolled his eyes skyward in disgust at her forgetfulness. He thought her scatter brained no doubt, well no matter; she cared as little for his opinion as she did his disapprobation.

'When you're ready guys…' the voice again prompted him.

A collective hush fell upon the room; Jane held her breath and crossed her fingers.

Lizzy composed herself and walked towards Darcy, she was stood only a few feet away, throwing her script aside she rushed up and wrapped her arms around him.

Lizzy was Celia now, and he was Rupert, the script had taken over, and as far as Lizzy was concerned that was all that mattered, her repulsion for the man around whose neck her arms were encircled was put behind her; she could be a true professional whatever he thought of her.

She was about to utter her first words when…a phone rang; one of the actresses was the guilty party and as she was being banished to outside the hall, Darcy found it the perfect time to accost Lizzy.

'You know when somebody does you a favour it's generally polite to say thank you…' he began.

Lizzy was in no mood to let him finish, 'Really…' she smiled and simpered prettily, 'I guess with my being just another air headed bimbo actress, the sort of things like manners just passes me by…right…?'

The effect was wonderful; Darcy first stared wide-eyed and then blushed, he seemed mortified and left wondering exactly how and when she had overheard their conversation. They were ready for them again, and now it was left to Darcy to gather what was left of his composure. He managed it admirably, ever the consummate professional.

They resumed their positions, she with her arms about his neck, and his circling her waist. They were to portray lovers, there could be no uncomfortable ness, and they could show none, however ill they felt towards each other.

The scene was a quarrel between Celia and Rupert; Celia runs down to meet him secretly not suspecting the devastating news he has to greet her.

'_Celia…'he begins even as she's hanging about him, 'Celia I must tell you something…'_

_She's concerned; he looks serious, 'What is it…?'_

'_I'm to be married…' She thought him joking; he could not be…not whilst still making love and promises to her._

'_Rupert, do not joke…'_

'_I do not…within a few months…' he held her at arms length._

'_How…what do you mean…what of all that we have promised to each other…'_

'_What of it…nothing can come of it…you must have known…' _

The scene was reaching its height now, and both Darcy and Lizzy were engrossed by it all, they were the only two in the hall, with the words of a dying love being spoken between them.

_'No…you do not love her…you cannot, you love me I know you do…' Celia clawed to his neck pathetically.  
_

_Wishing to comfort, and with a lingering affection, Rupert held her for a while._

Lizzy for some strange reason, perhaps in the hope of putting him off, took the opportunity to whisper in his ear, 'You know if all it takes to make you look better is an air head, then maybe you aren't really as good an actor as you think…'

Darcy refused to be outdone…certainly not by a pretentious upstart like Elizabeth Bennet, he kept resolutely to his words.

_'Celia…we must part…I am for one way, you another…'_

'_Please Rupert…I am not a child, do not use such consoling tones with me…I refuse to release you…'_

'_You refuse…and what power do you think you hold sway over me, pray speak…' _

Darcy deliberately made Rupert's tone more malicious and vicious than it was written, and squeezing Lizzy tighter, he whispered his retort to her earlier remark, with the similar intention of distracting her, 'And maybe you're just a harpy who makes a habit of listening in to private conversations…'

Lizzy's reply was as an unexpected for them both as it was spectacular, she stepped away from him and with all her might slapped him across the face with her open hand! Was it Lizzy's or Celia's rage that inspired such a reaction? A collective gasp went up across the whole room, and poor Jane, who was convinced Lizzy had just driven a nail through her short lived career, almost fainted.

'Wait a minute, that's not in the script…' a puny voice called up before being shot down with an equally awed and hasty, 'shut up you idiot…!'

The reading resumed, every eye, every mind was fixated now wholly on the two on stage.

_Celia's voice quivered, she shook with anger, 'No…no power Rupert, only I know…we both know you care only for me…it is the truth, and you will regret the day you ever gave me up…'_

_Rupert was not to be moved, 'we all have regrets Celia…many of which we learn to live with…'_

'_I hope you learn to live with this Rupert…'she reached up and kissing him softly on the lips, and turned to walk away, vowing it to be forever._

_Had she turned at that exact opportune moment, she would have rushed back straight into his arms, for Rupert stood head bowed, with tears brimming in his eyes and an ache in his heart. _

The performance held the audience so captive and spellbound that for a long moment no-one spoke. They were at last all roused by the sight of an obviously distraught Lizzy hurrying off the stage; she jumped down and without speaking to a soul hurried out of the room, banging the doors behind her as she went.

* * *

Only Jane proved brave enough to hurry after her, Lizzy by this time had already picked up her things and was making her way across the car park towards her car. 

It had started to rain, and poor Elizabeth looked like a dejected soul as she fumbled hopelessly in her bag for keys. She cut a pathetic sight, more so when she dropped her bag and had to retrieve the strewn contents; the rain had mottled and soaked her hair leaving it hanging down in strands about her face.

Jane hurried to her having had the good sense to take an umbrella with her, held it aloft as she helped her sister.

She took hold of her hand when they had done, 'Lizzy surely you can't contemplate disappearing now…'

Lizzy smiled woefully, and Jane spied the tell tale streak of tears, 'Jane do you remember the first time you ever read The Framed Rose…'

'Yes of course…I was 14 and I loved the book so much I read it again and then lent it to you…'

'Exactly…it's a classic you loved it, and I loved it and so did all the other millions of people who have been lucky enough to read it…'

Jane was puzzled, 'Lizzy, what are you talking about…?'

'I can't do this Jane, the characters, Celia and Rupert are so indelibly printed on everyone's heart, that I could never do them…I could never do Celia justice…'

'What…!' Jane gestured emphatically with the umbrella, thoroughly defeating the whole purpose of its use and allowing them both to be soaked by the heavy downpour,

'You can't think that now, Lizzy were you listening to yourself on that stage…you were amazing, you were Celia…'

Lizzy shook her head stubbornly, 'No…Jane I know how much that book means to me…I don't want a generation of readers who, when they think of The Framed Rose, instead of picturing that wonderful story, have me and my performance making them cringe…'

Jane was at a loss to understand where her fears stemmed from. 'Lizzy, given what you just did in there, what both you and Darcy did, I promise you that anybody who goes to see this film is going to be amazed as we all were…'

'Jane…I'm not good enough…its time we both accepted that...'

'God…Lizzy..! Where is this coming from…?'

'I'm not the only one who thinks so…'

Jane was about to ask her just who had affected her belief in herself so profoundly, when her phone rang. Lizzy finding her keys and her resolve made her way to her car.

* * *

Lizzy's and Darcy's stellar performance as well as being watched from the front of the stage, was also observed very sneakily by the man who was to direct the whole thing, Harry Kilton. He had stood in the shadows throughout it all, and had been about to hurry after Lizzy when he had tripped over the curtain rope and fell flat on his face, Lizzy escaped him. 

But he was not to be deterred, convinced he had found his elusive stars at last he scrambled to his feet and called out after the fast retreating Lizzy and an even faster Jane, they didn't hear him.

Harry although young was also a short, fat easily exhausted man, and shouting tired him so; turning to the casting coach he grabbed him by the collar and demanded to know who that girl was.

'Elizabeth Bennet…' the poor man wasn't allowed to finish.

'Well I want her…she's the one…' Harry was turning a peculiar shade of beetroot with all his breathless excitement.

'But sir…there are at least a half dozen more girls to read…'

'Well send them all home…'he waved frantically in the air, 'I've found her…I've found Celia…'

'I agree…she's the one…' Darcy had climbed down from the stage and standing behind them was gingerly rubbing his cheek, where Lizzy had left her mark; he wore a peculiar smile.

With such ringing endorsements the casting coach had no choice but to find Jane's number and give her the news.

'Lizzy…wait, please…' Jane struggled to catch up; Lizzy had already started her car. She tapped on the window and waited for Lizzy to wind it down, 'Lizzy you can't leave…'

'Jane we've talked about this…'

Jane shook her head and grinned, 'No you don't understand…you got it…you got the part…you're playing Celia…'

Lizzy refused to believe it at first, but then began to declare she wouldn't take it, she actually intended to turn the part down!

Jane's face fell at these words, 'You're not serious…'

'I most certainly am…' and with that was about to wind her window back up and drive off. Jane was desperate.

'Okay…look you can't leave…I need you to take this part, because…because I've met someone… here and the only way I can keep on seeing him is if you take this part…'

Lizzy looked at her sceptically, she readily believed Jane was capable of concocting such a story if it could persuade her to stay.

But Jane was blushing now and seemed sincere, or if she wasn't it was her who ought to have been the actress.

'Come on…' she continued, 'do you really want to ensure your sister stays on the shelf for the rest of her life…?' Jane smiled sheepishly.

Lizzy smiled back, 'You and I both know that's not going to happen…' she shook her head, 'I know I'm going to regret this…'

'Yes…!' Jane jumped and squealed with delight.

The sisters returned arm in arm, and peeking through the half open door to the hall they saw everybody had already left; only an overly excited Harry, a bruised Darcy and Bingley remained.

Lizzy turned to her sister, 'So before we go in…are you going to tell me anymore about this mystery man of yours…when am I going to get to meet him…?'

Jane smiled and squeezed her arm, 'Right now if you like…' pushing the doors open further, 'he's in here…'

Lizzy prayed she was talking about Harry, worse…it soon became clear she meant Bingley.

'Oh no…' Bingley and Darcy were close, likewise the sisters were inseparable, so to spend time with Bingley would mean to spend time with Darcy; Lizzy was she beginning to regret changing her mind already. /font


	2. A difference over words

**Part 2- '…a difference over words…'**

Darcy surveyed the night sky above him, brilliantly lit with stars as far as the eye could see, he breathed in a large gasp of the crisp, clean air. He had for the past few hours been forced to smile graciously and feign an interest in people who induced nothing but a tendency to scream in order to escape their abject boredom.

This should get easier, he sighed, he was an actor after all, who better to make love and utter pleasantries to a people he could not stand to be around. Still he had taken the first chance to escape and slipped out unnoticed to sweet…sweet freedom!

The only person who could have stirred a genuine interest spent the entire time avoiding him, though he could not blame her, he was a little disappointed in Lizzy Bennet's inability to forgive.

She may have found his words to be offensive, but the simple truth of the matter remained his declaring all actresses to be air headed bimbos had pushed her to give a better performance on that stage. He had no doubt he was responsible for her getting the part of Celia, getting inflamed and angry at him, ensured her success…she shouldn't still be resentful, if anything she had plenty to thank him for.

She wore a long flowing, cream satin dress, and in a room full of beautiful people was the only one who stood out with a natural beauty. Lizzy's figure was light and pleasing, her complexion healthy, and beautifully set off with her black hair done up in the latest style. Her dark eyes, with their animated expression and thick lashes would have been difficult for any painter to capture with any accuracy.

Aware of the fact he may have been staring at her a little too intently, he moved about the room, viewing her at every angle and not losing sight of her once. She had acknowledged his presence only briefly, when his gaze had caught her eye; she had turned hers away with cold disdain and a dismissive air.

The sound of classical violins floated out of the giant marquee, and hearing familiar voices Darcy realised he had circled the entire area and ended up right back at the entrance. Ready to go in, he stopped short upon seeing Lizzy stood with her sister Jane…he thought, or perhaps because he wished to, thought he heard Lizzy say his name. Determined to hear exactly what she would say about him, he stepped back to avoid notice…but no, Jane was moving on and Lizzy was standing quite alone.

Courage quickened his step; finally spying his chance to speak to her alone he hurried in before someone else had a chance to join her. In his haste he failed to take into account the flustered waiter approaching at no particular pace from the other side.

The crash was inevitable; arms, legs and canapés went everywhere… Darcy certainly had her attention now, as well as everybody else's in the place.

The orchestra had the sense and compassion to allay poor Darcy's embarrassment as quickly as possible by starting up with a lively piece, he was thankful but not before he managed to spy Lizzy's thinly veiled attempt at suppressing her laughter. Discomfited and angry, he surprised her by instead of hurrying away as she suspected he would, coming over and calmly taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, stood next to her.

The knowing smile still played on her face, she could not resist, 'ever the star Mr Darcy…you certainly know how to make an entrance…'

He smiled back; she would not rile him however much she tried.

'I like people to know I'm there…'

'Oh…a blatant exhibitionist then….'

'Not at all…it's just I wouldn't like to run the risk of overhearing something I might not like…'

Lizzy scowled at him, this was of course another pointed dig, yet another reference to events at the audition. Darcy liked this look about her; he loved the way he was able to get at her, even when she tried her hardest to resist, he somehow still managed to get under her skin. He half wondered if she was going to slap him again and braced himself accordingly.

Lizzy was robbed of the opportunity; they were joined by a tall, handsome woman. 'Oh good, Harry's two stars together, bonding…I'm so glad…'

Marcie Hicks was Harry's girlfriend and financial backer; she was an elegant woman, huskily voiced and considerably older than Harry. Her height and flaming red hair, contrasted with his being short and bald, and ensured that the two were greeted with looks that confirmed their status as being the odd couple.

'Darcy…it's a pleasure as always…' leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, her low cut dress bulged and Lizzy caught more than an eyeful of Marcie's 'assets'. She turned to her next.

'And this must be Miss Elizabeth Bennet…Harry's Celia; well I can understand what he was raving about now…my name is Marcie Hicks…' She offered her hand and Lizzy shook it warmly.

Lizzy was uncomfortable with any sort of praise, she smiled meekly, 'It's a wonderful party Miss Hicks…forgive my ignorance, but I don't think I've ever heard of a pre-filming party…'

'Please dear, call me Marcie…' her smiles were all motherly, 'and this is all business. I have no romantic notions about the movies, Miss Bennet, but I have invested a lot of money into this project of Harry's and I intend to see a return.'

She swept her arm, a gesture meant to encircle the whole room, 'this is all publicity…letting people know that this film is happening…'

'Because the added pressure should prove such a thrill…?'Lizzy's tone became unintentionally sarcastic, but she was nervous about making her first film, and Marcie's words were not doing anything to calm her fears.

Marcie looked towards Darcy with an expressive smile and Lizzy imagined they shared a confidence, the thought unnerved her.

'Miss Bennet…Lizzy, you are a relative unknown…we must show you off a little…'

Darcy chipped in, 'and let's face it if you didn't want to be shown off you wouldn't have become an actress…'

Darcy was obviously amused at her discomfort, she thought his words intended as revenge for her laughing at him earlier.

Marcie interceded, 'we need to get you in the public eye…both of you, and you must be associated with the book, the characters Celia and Rupert as much as possible. We'll give the public teasers and tasters of what's to come, not too much, enough to keep them guessing and wanting more…'

Seeing Lizzy still sceptical, she added, 'Miss Bennet trust me, I'm an old pro at this…and I learnt a long time ago, nothing heightens desire more than expectation…isn't that right…Darcy?' she had turned to him so suddenly that he almost spilt his drink.

'Um…yes that's right Marcie…' his reply was accompanied by the deepest blush, and Lizzy was sure they shared that expression of confidence once more, and wondered what was behind it.

'Miss Bennet if you want somebody to buy, you must be prepared to sell…by any and every means possible…' she stabbed her finger in the palm of her hand to emphasise her point.

'Do you mean to sell us then Marcie...?' The reservation in Lizzy's voice was painfully obvious.

Marcie smiled sweetly but her words belied the seriousness behind it all, 'Of course, Miss Bennet, we are relying on _you_, all of us… to raise our fortunes…, you will make or break this movie…'

Lizzy gulped hard, my God the pressure…it sat an ugly, huge weight on her chest and she thought she would collapse under the burden of it. She closed her eyes, and only opened them as Marcie laying a cool hand on her arm, brought her face close and whispered, 'And don't worry…I've wanted to slap him a few times myself.'

She moved on after that leaving a distinctly cold and numb Lizzy in her wake.

* * *

The publicity Marcie had promised arrived soon after; Lizzy and Darcy were still stood together, her looking for an excuse to escape, and his looking for the words, something to say to keep her there still, when a photographer appeared by their side. 

He declared his reasons for interrupting, stating that he had been ordered to take pictures of every stage of the films production, beginning appropriately enough with the pre filming party, for the films official website.

He began snapping away happily, but seeing Lizzy and Darcy starting to feel uncomfortable around him and each other, he thought it best to start a conversation to divert their attention from the camera.

'So…The Framed Rose, a classic book…had either of you read it before taking on this project…?'

He could not have picked a topic closer to Lizzy's heart, she beamed proudly, 'of course…it's a wonderful book, I must have read it at least a dozen times, and the role of Celia is a dream come true for me…'

They both looked to Darcy, who finally realised it was his time to share, 'oh…I read it a couple of months ago…when I knew I would be playing Rupert…'

'A couple of months…' Lizzy found it hard to conceal her incredulity.

'Yes…is that a problem…?'

The photographer seeing his handiwork begin to take effect, stood back to catch them in all the right angles. They were both animated now as the discussion between them began to heat up.

'No…no problem, I just think it would be difficult for anyone to truly know the character of Rupert…after reading the book only once, and to play him well, after studying him for such a short time…' Lizzy's colour was beginning to return, 'Tell me…what did _you_ think of the book…?'

'I thought it was written well enough…'

'Ha…' his indifference clearly astounded her. He asked Lizzy to elaborate. 'I must admit to being shocked at how you can be so indifferent, but to tell the truth that is exactly what I would have expected of you…'

'Really, you presume to know me so well then…?' he challenged her.

'I presume nothing Mr Darcy, only I cannot see how someone can be so cold, as to dismiss some of the most heart rending words written as being, merely 'well written'. How could anyone fail to be moved by Rupert, when he states, _'I slip further every day, every hour…deeper and deeper, and at every turn encountering a darkness I cannot fathom...'_

Darcy was becoming exasperated, she was determined to pick an argument with him, 'You know the book so well Miss Bennet, anything I could say would only serve to offend you...'

'I would rather you offered an unfavourable opinion than none at all…'

'Truly…?' he smiled sceptically.

Lizzy's tone at once became one of reconciliation; it would not do for the whole room to see how ill they got on, not when so much was depended upon the both of them. Marcie's words still rang shrilly in her ears.

She smiled as pleasantly as possible, 'I refuse to believe you are yet so indifferent…'

Darcy resigned unreservedly, her smile disarmed him, 'Fine…here is what I think, yes The Framed Rose is a wonderful book, portraying loss, redemption and pitiful sorrow vividly…but I suppose I have reservations with the writer's underlying message, that loss of love can be equated with death…'

Reservations…! Lizzy wondered at the arrogance of this man to presume to know the mindset of the writer and such a wonderful piece as to have reservations about it! But still that pleasant smile was retained.

'But surely it can be readily believed in the case of Celia and Rupert…?'

Darcy was on a roll now, 'and what is there of comfort to be offered in the book…I for one confess to being a slave to the happy ending…'

Lizzy interrupted him, 'The ending is not so entirely to be lamented. Celia finds Rupert; she forgives him and offers him solace in his final hours…'

'Yes that is exactly it… Rupert is the one that suffers, through continued impoverishment, and solitude and finally a lingering death, it seems the writers wish is to punish him for acting correctly…'

'Correctly…?' Lizzy inquired.

'Yes in giving Celia up…obeying voices in the head, instead of the murmurs of the heart…'

'He gave away the love, the hope and heart of a girl who was devoted to him…!' Lizzy's voice was starting to rise again, despite her endeavours to keep her temper in check.

'Yes and for no other reason than he truly believed that a union between them would have been disastrous…and he was quite right…'

'Oh…?' she raised an eyebrow questioningly.

'Rupert put aside his own sentiments to ensure that the woman he loved would continue in that happy existence and comfort to which she has been accustomed all her life. Marriage to an impoverished painter would have brought Celia to hardships and struggles she could never have imagined or borne…'

Lizzy could only stare at him astounded, he continued oblivious. 'Yet the writer seems happy to punish him for his sense and decency…'

She sighed patiently, 'then I take it you do not subscribe to the theorem that love conquers all…?'

Darcy smiled, 'I said I was a slave to happy endings Miss Bennet, not that I demand them in every case…love would certainly not have conquered all where Rupert and Celia are concerned…'

Lizzy jumped on his contradiction, 'You confuse me Mr Darcy, you seem to both condemn and laud the book for its lack of a happy ending…'

Darcy aware of his mistake became anxious, 'I merely wished to state my feelings, perhaps not very clearly, on a narrative that seems to condemn its principal character for acting nobly and selflessly…'

'We have talked of the writer without mentioning that it's author is perhaps one of the most singular aspects of The Framed Rose, it was of course published anonymously we have no way of knowing if the author was he or a she…'

Darcy sneered contemptuously, 'and I suppose Miss Bennet that you are one of those hopeless romantics, who will endeavour to ascribe the work of being perhaps not entirely fictitious. That the character of Celia possibly existed, and the book was her work, to gain some immortality for, and preserve the memory of the man she loved in Rupert…'

She did not care to dignify this with a response, and instead chose to end the discussion entirely, sighing resignedly, 'Very well Mr Darcy, it is clear to me we will never agree… perhaps we ought to declare our difference of opinion and leave it at that…'

His reply was short and curt, he was getting tired of being opposed and challenged in every way.

'Fine…'

'Good.' Lizzy was in an equally morose mood and eager to be away.

'Fine…' he retorted again.

Their conversation threatened to turn into a monosyllabic series of grunts. Before Lizzy could reply a small voice behind them sounded, 'ummm…excuse me…'

Of course, the photographer! In all their arguing back and forth they had quite forgotten the man who had kept happily snapping away.

Lizzy was at once apologetic and embarrassed, had he been taken pictures of their quarrelling? It certainly wouldn't be the sort of publicity Marcie had in mind.

'I'm sorry; I hope we didn't put you off too much…'

'No…not at all I quite enjoyed your discussion actually; it was very…informative…'

The poor man could not hurry away quick enough; Lizzy turned to Darcy in order to gauge his reaction… he appeared entirely indifferent to the whole.

As occupied as they now were with how they had been perceived, both Lizzy and Darcy failed to notice the photographer scurrying off to join Marcie in a quiet corner.

* * *

'Well…?' she inquired impatiently. The fake photographer, Arnold Sallis was in fact a close friend of hers; he had an amateurish interest in behavioural psychology and body language, she thought him the perfect person to observe Lizzy and Darcy closely.

In order to go about unnoticed and unchallenged she had ordered him to take a camera with him as a disguise.

It was with this disguise he was now fiddling, much to Marcie's annoyance, 'you do realise there's no film in that thing…?' she snapped angrily.

'I know…' he put the camera aside reluctantly.

'Well what about them two…?' Marcie gestured emphatically with her head in the direction of Lizzy and Darcy.

'It's difficult to say really…they're both so guarded, even when they're arguing, they're holding back…'

'Really…?' Marcie was disappointed, 'look she's fiddling with her hair I thought that was flirting…?'

'Normally, yes but where Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy are concerned, she might as well be giving him the two fingers…'

Marcie was frustrated; she thought she could see her investment sinking into a deep, black hole. 'Well a fat lot of good you are…so Harry got it wrong then…?'

'No…not entirely, there's something there...'

'Something…so it could work…they could work…?'

Arnold nodded decisively, 'Oh yes, they could work…'


	3. The art of making love

**Part 3- '…The art of making love…'**

**'**This is not going to work…' Harry's producer threw up his arms in obvious disdain. 'Harry I'm telling you this is hopeless…'

Harry was tired. This was the second month into filming and the problems that had already arisen were numerous, this scene the principal. It was the first declaration of love from Rupert for Celia, and had Harry hoped that his stars, Lizzy and Darcy, would deliver the same intensity and passion that marked their scenes together during audition, he was sorely mistaken.

It was easier to make war than love, as the song went, and Harry was pulling out what little hair he had left. Lizzy and Darcy seemed reluctant to get past their dislike of each other.

They spoke the words well enough; the scene played out beautifully until they were required to touch. Darcy then appeared reluctant, and worse, Lizzy clearly radiated disgust. But Harry refused to give up.

His producer, Billy Farren, was of a less tenacious nature. 'Look Harry, it's still not too late, we could easily replace her…bring in a more established girl…'

'No…! Of course it's too late this late into production, to bring about a complete turnaround now would be disastrous, we've already lost time, and not to mention the cost…you know that. Besides, I don't want to replace anybody. They are perfect…'

'Oh, come on, Harry! Are you watching the same two people…?'

'Yes…and I'm telling you, there is something between them…chemistry…something electric, I can see it…'

Billy scoffed, 'Yeah…That's not really the point, is it…let's only hope you can make them see it as well…'

'I can…and I will… I'm not giving up on them on yet….'

Billy was suddenly struck by a thought. 'Look Harry this wasn't like that commercial is it, you know that time you got drunk and took up that bet on casting the first two people you saw…?'

Harry became defensive. 'Hey…that only happened once, alright? And I was really drunk…'

'Okay…it's your call…'

Harry nodded, and called out, 'Places, people! Get ready to go again…' A final touch of make up and adjusting of the costumes and the scene was ready to be played out again.

_Rupert's__ hands shook as he worked and the lines he had drawn on the canvas could have been better done by a rank amateur. But really it could not be helped, Celia looked…my God, he __thought, she is beautiful… _

_Aware that he had stopped drawing all together and now was just staring stupidly, he dropped his pencil and walked purposefully over to her._

_She refused to look up. _

_Rupert had known it would be beyond temptation for them to be left alone. He had tried to make some excuse to her father to avoid exactly this situation, but he trusted him. _

_Lord Grayson had welcomed Rupert, a destitute painter, into his home, and treated him with more dignity than Rupert was ashamed to admit he deserved. This trust, solemn as it was, and solemnly placed with him, he was about to violate._

_What a violation it would be…he loved her, he loved Celia…beyond reasoning, beyond doubt and beyond promises to an old man more trusting than was wise._

_He fell at her feet, and still she did not acknowledge him as she sat in that pose favoured by wealthy ladies: dress billowing outwards and with a book in hand, wishing to look more studious and better read than they really were. He dared not speak; she looked at him at last…and smiled._

'_I am no artist sir, but I believe you would find a better prospect from where you stood…'_

'_The view is perfect from here…Celia, you would be enchanting from every angle; if I never saw it again, this fair prospect would remain with me forever…'_

_Celia laughed unintentionally and he looked hurt. 'You have chosen the wrong vocation sir; with such pretty words…surely you ought to have been a poet…?'_

'_It would not matter what I was or am, nothing I could ever paint or say would match you…Celia…'_

_He whispered her name again and again, and taking the hem of her dress kissed it reverently. She was all seriousness now._

'_Then I am sorry for you, sir; it must be a cruel punishment indeed to be plagued with such a poor opinion of one's talent…'_

_He stared at her wide-eyed, not wishing to understand. She continued and every word was a twist of the knife she plunged into his heart._

_She took her dress out of his hands. 'You had better finish your portrait sir…from where you stood before…' Her coldness was unmistakable. He took her advice and, rising slowly, walked back to the canvas. He carried on, every stroke with his pencil a sweeping, angry gesture…he hated her!_

'And…cut!' Harry leapt out of his chair and, walking over to Lizzy, tried to smile... 'Okay, that was better, but…' He stopped short. The poor girl was looking tired. He had forgotten this was her first film and she was not used to the punishing schedule. She had not yet developed the stamina required for such an ambitious project; he felt sorry for her.

'Okay…let's call it a day. We'll move on to the family scenes with Lord Grayson and Celia tomorrow…' He looked down at Lizzy and, placing a hand on her shoulder, tried to reassure her, 'You're doing fine…don't worry.'

* * *

Lizzy sat in her trailer utterly depressed. She was still in her costume; the girl who had been assigned to help her undress and return the costume safely was late.

She endeavoured to remove the make up herself. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she knew exactly what was wrong, and why scenes with Darcy were proving difficult.

Aside from her dislike of the man, it was the startling conclusion which she had reached after the party. Sleep had been an impossibility after Marcie's words, and as she tossed and turned, she suddenly realised the meaning behind the significant looks they had exchanged, the confidences they shared. Of course, it was all so clear…Fitzwilliam Darcy and Marcie Hicks were having an affair! What else could have been meant by her, 'desire and expectation'…it was all so clear.

Now she found it impossible to be on set with the two men. Every moment spent with Darcy increased her anger at his dishonesty and cruelty towards the man he regarded as a friend. And Harry…poor Harry, she could barely look him in the eye.

Lizzy in desperation had called Jane, who had promised to come tomorrow. She smiled when she thought of her sister; there, at least, was the promise of some happy prospects. Jane had been spending a lot of time with Bingley, and Lizzy was delighted for them both.

Bingley was not at all like his friend. A starker contrast could not have been made: he was kind and gentle, and generously humoured. Darcy, on the other hand, was mean and resentful, and so full of…deceit.

* * *

Darcy stood in the doorway watching her intently; they were setting up the table again for the family scene. Lizzy sat on one side of the actor who was playing Lord Grayson, smiling and laughing in the most engaging fashion.

He was aware of the little pangs of jealousy he felt at her easy, friendly manner with just about every one else involved in this film, that was, everyone except himself. Towards him she continued cold and indifferent, a manner which in turns thrilled and frustrated him.

It alarmed him, all the little things he noticed about her: the way she played with that same strand of hair when she was nervous, how she tilted her head to one side and smiled wistfully, and all the things he had picked up and retained in memory from her conversations with others. He knew they were a family of five sisters of which she was the second; that her parents had both been theatre actors, and that her father was in fact in a play; even that her favourite colour was green.

His pleasant reverie was uninterrupted by a figure appearing at his side. He smiled warmly and pointed out the point of his interest. 'Is it me, Bingley…or does Collins get slimier every day…?'

Mr Collins, as he preferred to be known, was the resident history expert: an authority on the period in which The Framed Rose was set, and therefore perfect to advise Harry on the authenticity of his production.

He had been called in at the start and almost at once set about falling in love with the leading lady. His attentions towards her were painfully obvious, and soon became the butt of everyone's joke on set. Lizzy tried hard and unsuccessfully in turns to ignore and dissuade it, but Collins proved as resilient as he was annoying.

He hovered about her even now, straightening out the set pieces on the table and laying a hand on Lizzy's arm as he did so. She was obviously uncomfortable with his familiarity but much too good natured to say so.

Bingley smiled, feeling sorry for Lizzy. 'You're right…I didn't think it was possible, but I think he's sunk to a new low…'

'Well, it's good to have you back; do I have to ask where you've been…?' Darcy smiled knowingly and watched Bingley blush.

'It's nothing like that, we had a nice time…Jane is…Look, we went to the zoo yesterday alright? That's all…' he stammered.

Darcy laughed at his awkwardness. 'To the zoo…Well, Bingley, you really know how to show a girl a good time…'

'What…?' he cried defensively.

Everything was in place now, and Harry called everyone but the actors off the set. 'Silence, please…' he bellowed.

The scene was only beginning to get going when a couple of voices could be heard giggling. The next moment a shrill, excited sound behind Harry piped up. 'She's very good, isn't she…She gets it from my side of the family you know…'

It appeared so suddenly and so close that Harry was startled out of his chair. Once over his initial shock, he began to shout, 'Who the hell are you…What is this woman doing here, this is a closed set…Get her out of here…!'

Darcy and Bingley, amused by the scene, peered closely; the cause of Harry's foaming at the mouth was apparently a middle-aged woman. She wore the most ridiculously loud, flamboyant clothes and an obscenely large, brimmed hat complete with an abundance of purple feathers. The thing on her arm remained a mystery, though.

'What is that…?' Darcy asked an equally bemused Bingley.

'I think it's some sort of dog…' he replied.

'Is it alive…?'

Lizzy had likewise heard the commotion, but she realised in horror the voice arguing with Harry before she actually turned to see, was familiar…and heavens…! Yes she was right…instant recognition of the woman angrily wagging her finger at the director, and furthermore of the two giggling voices shamelessly flirting with the light technician, resulted in Lizzy letting out a tortured a moan and dropping her head on the table, convinced she was going to die of shame.

'Oh no, Jane….what have you done…' she murmured into the tablecloth.

* * *

'I'm sorry, Lizzy...I won't blame you if you never forgive me…' Jane pleaded her case with her sister. They had retreated to her trailer, bolting the door behind them.

'That's something I'm seriously considering right now Jane…what were you thinking, telling her…bringing her here…with Kitty, Lydia and even Mary in tow?'

'I'm sorry...' Jane repeated, 'but you know what mother is like…she cornered me, she knew you had gone up for some big project…and then she kept asking and asking, believe me Lizzy she just wouldn't stop…'

Lizzy softened her tone, 'Poor Jane…it's a good thing they don't trust you with state secrets…'

'I could withstand the worst torture very well, but we both know mother is positively sadistic…when she starts to lament on her nerves, and how poorly she is used by everyone…' They both laughed, thoroughly reconciled.

'Unwelcome guests aside, I'm glad you're here, Jane. There's something I want to talk to you about…' Lizzy poured out all her fears and suspicions regarding Darcy and Harry's girlfriend. Thoroughly expecting a sympathetic ear, she was surprised when Jane burst out laughing.

'I'm sorry for laughing Lizzy, but it's ridiculous…they're not having an affair...!'

'Really…you know that for sure..?'

Jane shook her head, 'Lizzy, she's nearly old enough to be his mother…'

'So…? She's nearly old enough to be Harry's mother…she is still a very attractive woman…'

'Trust me Lizzy, they are not having an affair…I would know, Bingley would have said something…'

'Oh..?' Lizzy smiled slyly at her.

'There's no need to smile like that Lizzy…, but he's so open and honest he wouldn't have kept such a thing to himself...'

Lizzy at length complied with Jane's better sense, and admitted perhaps she had read too much meaning where there was none, and looked for a sordid explanation where a perfectly innocent one existed.

She reached up and hugged her sister, 'I'm so glad to have you back…'

After a frantic ten minutes in her trailer composing herself and being consoled by Jane, Elizabeth and her sister emerged and returned to the set they had left in a hurry.

Harry, thoroughly defeated by their mother, sat languidly in his chair, fed up and self pitying; he offered Lizzy a withering look as she caught his eye.

Mrs Bennet stood talking with Mr Collins. Lizzy surveyed the scene and cringed. She noted the miserable creature held tentatively on her mothers forearm, and turned to Jane.

'God, Jane, that thing is still alive…?' She referred to the small Yorkshire terrier dog.

Jane smiled sympathetically, 'You mean the rather ironically named Warrior? And, yes, the old mutt is still alive, just not kicking as much…'

'Somebody ought to put that poor thing out of its misery…'

'Don't worry; he doesn't bite as much as he used to, lack of teeth…'

They approached their mother and Mr Collins slowly. Lizzy had no intention of hearing what they could possibly have to discuss. 'Mother, may I speak to you for a second?' She smiled pleasantly at Collins, who grinned rather stupidly in return.

'Miss Bennet, I was just telling your mother what a pleasure it was working on this film. The presence of a certain party has certainly served to heighten the pleasure…'

Lizzy, although smiling, could not help but wonder if it was possible he was getting slimier by the day.

'Pray excuse us, Mr Collins…' Lizzy was forced to take her mother by the arm, careful not to touch the poor excuse for a dog, and carry her away.

Mrs Bennet began in her shrill, breathless way almost at once. 'Lizzy, why you didn't tell me you were working with Darcy? In fact, I wonder why Jane didn't tell me…I would have been down here straight away…' Barely a breath later and she was off again. 'Do you know he's from a long noble, line of actors…He has the largest theatre in Derbyshire, the world famous Pemberley theatre…Lizzy he's worth thousands…'

Lizzy sighed, 'Thank you mother, for that entirely mercenary approach…'

Mrs Bennet was not actually listening; she was busily envisioning white dresses and churches… 'It's even better than Jane's Bingley; Lizzy, you could do a lot worse than marry Darcy…'

'Marry…!' Lizzy practically choked on the word. 'Mother, you have barely known Darcy for five minutes. I have known him for a little longer and am convinced it has been too long already…Believe me, you may put away any romantic notions you have there…'

Mrs Bennet was disappointed and persisted, until Lizzy repeated some of what Darcy had stated about actresses in general, and then Mrs Bennet was as offended and disgusted as Lizzy had expected a former actress to be.

Still, she was not one to be put off a single thought quite so easily and seeing Collins yet hovering, had no qualms substituting one potential bridegroom for another. 'Well what about Collins, then? He's no looker, but he'll do well enough for you…besides, for some reason, he's quite taken with you…'

Lizzy had spent too long deadening herself to her mother's often thoughtless comments to be hurt. 'Thank you mother…I love you too…'

As her mother chose not to understand, she turned the conversation to her father and his absence.

Mrs Bennet was equally as scathing on that point, 'Oh, he has rehearsals…that play is apparently far too important to come support his daughter on her first film…'

Lizzy could not hide her disappointment. Her father was one of the few men whose opinion she truly valued, and he was not here to offer it.

She knew her mother's resentment stemmed entirely from jealousy. She had no doubt, had her mother still been receiving offers for parts in plays, her rehearsal would have proved equally more important than Lizzy's first film.

Leaving her mother in the trusted presence of Jane, Lizzy hurried away to find her absentee sisters. She had a fair idea as to where the first two would be, and as the sound of their ceaseless giggling pointed out, she was right. They were still standing with various members of the lighting crew, who appeared delighted with some female company at last.

Lizzy was greeted with positive resentment as she took both her sisters and dragged them away. 'For God's sake, Lydia, Kitty…the lighting crew, those sad beings…When are you two girls ever going to show some class…?'

Mary was discovered as they were passing; Lizzy picked her up just in time, as she was about to offer another lecture on the issue of classic books being mauled by substandard film adaptations to yet another unsuspecting victim.

Having finally gathered her clan, Lizzy ushered them off the set and through some side doors. She spied Darcy, sitting in a chair, watching them whilst pretending to read a newspaper; she thought she saw him smirk superiorly and at once grew angry and ashamed.

Once safely outside, Lizzy asked her mother about her plans. 'Well…' she began in hope, 'I guess this is a flying visit…I'm sure you have to get back home, you'll have a long drive…hadn't you best be going...?'

Mrs Bennet laughed that shrill laugh of hers, 'Don't be silly, Lizzy! We're staying for a while yet…You know your Aunt Philips has a boarding house not a couple of miles from here…no we'll be here almost every day…'

'Oh, good…' were all the words Lizzy could muster between gritted teeth.


	4. Waltzes Of The Heart

_A/N Thanks for reading and reviewing, I enjoy all your comments! )_**  
**

**Part 4- '….****Waltzes of the heart…' **

Lord Herington must have thought himself on the verge of making a considerable amount of money when he had agreed to allow his estate to be used as the primary location for the film's settings. He had reason, however, after seeing the complete overhaul of his grand house, the building of false walls in the rooms to tie in with correct period, and the continued comings and goings of the multitude of people, actors, technicians, and the rest, to think his thirty pieces of silver dearly bought.

The Herington estate, settled neatly within the foothills of the Pennine Hills, straddling the border between Scotland and England, was perfect to depict the scenes of Celia's family life and wealth. The grounds were ample and though the interior had needed some adjustment, it was vast and perfectly suited. Though the grounds may have proved to be perfect, affairs on the set were proving less harmonious.

It had only been a week since the Bennet ladies' arrival, and Harry had already been held back physically on several occasions to prevent him from strangling Mrs Bennet. She made a mockery of his authority, was obnoxious and rude to Darcy, encouraged Collins in his attentions to Lizzy, despite the latter's wishes to the contrary, and continually embarrassed Jane and Bingley with all her insinuations.

The daughters were not much better. Lydia and Kitty flirted with anyone that offered them more than a passing glance, and Mary took it upon herself to offer tips on self improvement to whichever poor soul had ventured too close.

They were a continuous source of embarrassment to Lizzy, whose anguish was clear to everyone except them; they ignored her hints, subtle and otherwise, to leave.

But at least during filming, on the sets they were safe; Harry had appointed burly security men for exactly that, with specific instructions to be on the lookout for the dreaded Bennet quartet!

It was after a particularly heavy day of filming, during which Darcy and Lizzy were finding it – as usual – difficult to get along, that Lizzy would gain yet another insight into his character.

Harry had just called 'cut' much to the relief of everyone, and as a frustrated Darcy made his way off the set, he was stopped suddenly in his tracks by what appeared to be an extra. He stared at the man who stood in his way. Lizzy was watching it all and saw him turn pale with anger, and the stranger became red. He spoke to Darcy, and Lizzy could not fathom if it was the words that were spoken or the sight of this stranger, but Darcy, with more than usual alacrity and common rudeness, turned on his heel and walked away, banging the door with frightening force as he went.

Lizzy was astounded, and was thinking of the incident with some curiosity, when she was joined by one of the men in question.

'Excuse me…' Lizzy turned to see a handsome, tall man smiling at her. 'I'm sorry; I just had to come and speak to you…my name is George Wickam.'

Lizzy smiled in return, and he took that as encouragement.

'The Framed rose is my favourite book, and well I just have to say…I think you're perfect…' Lizzy laughed, embarrassed.

He shuffled and smiled coyly at her, 'That is…I mean to say that you are exactly how I have pictured Celia…'

'Thank you…that's very kind of you…' Lizzy couldn't help but ask, the incident between this man and Darcy was to her so very peculiar, 'I hope you don't mind my asking…but I couldn't help but notice…you know my co-star…?'

Wickam seemed cautious in his reply. 'Darcy..? Yes I do…are i _you /i _ much acquainted with his character..?'

Lizzy was quick to respond, 'No…no, that is to say, we are forced to spend a great deal of time together, but I am as much acquainted with his character as I could ever wish to be…'

Wickam nodded sympathetically. 'I am sorry to hear it…though I can't say I'm surprised; you see, I have known Darcy all my life…'

Lizzy's astonishment at these words must have spoken volumes.

'You are surprised, I know, Miss Bennet. You must have noted our less than warm address…?'

Lizzy reluctantly admitted she did; she did not wish to appear prying.

'We are not on friendly terms…Darcy and I…, but, Miss Bennet, that is far too long a story, though it's one I would gladly tell you, if you would join me for a drink…if that is not too forward of me…'

Lizzy blushed, 'No...I would be delighted…'

* * *

Less than an hour later Lizzy and Wickam were seated in the far corner of the local pub talking intently. Her glass was still practically full, his stories had her riveted; he could tell a tale with the most pleasing accuracy and with such animation that Lizzy was left with little attention for the drink.

She was fascinated, more so when he at last reached the subject which interested her most: Darcy.

'We grew up together. My father was an assistant to Darcy's. As children we would run around the theatre, play under the stage and everything else…'

'What happened between you two…?'

'Old man Darcy died and all his son's fears and insecurities came to the surface; you see, his father was very fond of me. So much so that he left me a significant sum of money and a share in the theatre. But Darcy refuted all that and I was left with nothing…it is the reason you see me this way now, Miss Bennet, on the verge of abject poverty and forced to take jobs as an extra.'

Lizzy could not believe what she was hearing. 'Why…why would he behave so cruelly…?'

'I can only think it was because of jealousy, that his father should love me, perhaps more than him…'

'But to act so viciously to a childhood friend as to leave you destitute…Why didn't you seek legal help…?'

Wickam sighed remorsefully. 'Because it would have inevitably turned into an ugly court battle, and I couldn't bear to bring the theatre into disrepute, and Miss Bennet, I loved and do still love the memory of his father too much to risk exposing his son…'

Lizzy smiled empathetically and thought him the noblest, most self-sacrificing creature in the world. Her thoughts returned again to Darcy. 'I never thought him as bad as this…and I wonder how he can so successfully trick his friend into believing in him so fully. Mr Bingley is his closest friend, and no fool…he is one of the kindest men I have ever met…I wonder, Mr Bingley can't know what he really is…'

'You forget Darcy is an actor, a highly skilled one at that, he may make Bingley or anyone else he wishes to believe what he chooses…'

Lizzy agreed, 'Yes of course, you are quite right…Do you know Mr Bingley?'

'A little. I have heard something of him…Darcy's publicist as well as his friend, I believe…' he smiled quietly, 'Bingley may prove to be one of those rare creatures to make an impression on our Darcy…' Lizzy's quizzical look pressed him to add more. 'I believe Darcy has him in mind as a potential husband for his sister Georgiana…'

Lizzy's thoughts at once flew to Jane; a potential rival could prove trouble for her heart. She did not think to question how Wickam could have come to know such information.

'And Bingley…what of his response…?'

'Well, I know that he is fond of her at least…'

It was easy to see Lizzy's interest was particularly piqued now. 'What is she like, Miss Darcy…?'

Wickam recalled thoughtfully, 'Very pretty. I wish I could say better, but I believe she has turned out too much like her brother, haughty and reserved…'

* * *

Lizzy stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her thoughts were indelibly fixed on the conversation of a few days ago with Wickam. Harry had given them the weekend break off filming, and Lizzy was more thankful for it than anyone could have imagined. Seeing Darcy again so soon, after all that she had heard about him, probably would have resulted in her slapping him again or worse. She had gone to stay with her family at her Aunt Philips' boarding house.

The only condition to the break had been that they attend a charity ball organised by Marcie, yet another publicity shot. It was the reason she was standing in front of the mirror, giving more attention to her dress and makeup than she had ever done before. She wore her hair down; the tousled locks she thought were her best feature cascaded about her shoulders and the thin straps of her bottle-green dress.

Lizzy had extended the invitation to Wickam; they were allowed to bring a guest and as it was already a given that all her family were already invited, she looked forward to seeing him there.

Of Darcy's behaviour towards Wickam she, at the latter's behest, had not breathed a word to another soul…except, of course, to Jane. She had been careful to leave out mention of Georgiana; it would have only caused needless worry. Everything else she related, and Jane's reaction showed her tendency to think the best of everyone. Jane was sure there had been some sort of mistake, it was all tragic error, and no one could be blamed.

Elizabeth strongly disagreed with her; there certainly was someone to blame…Darcy.

* * *

The dinner proved more of a torturous affair than Lizzy could ever have feared. She soon discerned Wickam was not among the crowds, and from then on any anticipation of enjoyment was entirely done away. He had assured her that he would come, in spite of Darcy, that he was not afraid of him and Darcy ought to be the one to leave if he wished to avoid him. Darcy was, of course, there, standing in the corner and as usual avoiding eye contact with everyone; the sight of him now provided Lizzy with added resentment.

She found her place, a table in the centre of the room, in clear view of everyone. The name card next to hers was to add to her despair: Fitzwilliam Darcy. There was no escaping him. Lizzy soon ascertained the whole thing to being Marcie's handiwork, who made a point of smiling and raising her glass to her. Lizzy forced a smile in return.

Thankfully, Darcy appeared to be in a more sullen mood than she, and aside from a few comments in the beginning on the starter and the excellent wine, said precious little thereafter. The various speakers on the charity were listened to in silence and Lizzy thought she could breathe a sigh of relief when it seemed Darcy would leave without speaking to her at all; she would have found it hard to keep a civil voice in her head.

He got up after the speeches, and Lizzy was likewise considering leaving when Darcy returned and addressed her. 'Miss Bennet…as the band has started up, I wonder…I do not claim to be much of a dancer, but I have been told I'm very good at the waltz…'

His application was so sudden that she found it hard to reply. He repeated his request, holding out his hand, 'Miss Bennet would you do me the honour of dancing with me…?'

A turn of her head and she spied Marcie, staring wide-eyed at her and, it appeared, mouthing words of encouragement; it was impossible for Lizzy to answer otherwise.

'Thank you…yes' and placing a cool hand in his, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The space was empty; by all appearances they looked like the handsome young couple setting an example. They were soon joined by other couples.

He held her close, her hand rested on his shoulder, their heads almost touching whilst his arm encircled her waist. Marcie was delighted; publicity like this could not be bought, and she was soon directing photographers towards the film star couple dancing intimately.

Darcy had no wish to speak; this was too delicious, holding Lizzy as close as this, his lips almost caressing her ear, feeling her warm breath in the nape of his neck. The soft rise and fall of her chest, pressed next to his…he breathed it all in deeply and, closing his eyes, swayed her gently in time to the softly playing music.

Darcy may have been enjoying the relative silence between them, but Lizzy saw it as too much of an opportunity to miss, she could not resist. 'We are a temperamental lot…' she began, 'we actors, are we not, Mr Darcy…would you agree…?'

He looked at her curiously. 'Perhaps…'

Lizzy smiled, '…quick-tempered…and with our fair share of melodramatic prejudices and a taste for developing resentments…'

'I would not like to confess to such failings in a character…'

'Do _you_ consider them failings…?' Lizzy looked at him intently.

He was unnerved by her frankness. 'Irrational prejudice, anger and implacable resentment…yes of course…'

'Perhaps it is precisely because we are actors. Our emotions are always called upon to be entirely on the surface…Would you consider that to be a viable excuse, if one were to behave unfairly…'

She had a curious tone in her voice Darcy did not like. He grew suspicious. 'Miss Bennet may I ask to what these questions tend…'

She tried vainly to reassure him, and laughed lightly, 'I am only trying to make out your character, Mr Darcy…'

'You have had the best part of six months. I would never have thought myself to be so complex…our time together has given you little opportunity for success?'

'It is confusing, I hear such different accounts of you, from such varied sources that…I do not know which to believe…'

Darcy's voice took on its own gravity now. 'I can readily believe it, Miss Bennet, and I would not wish to influence your decision. Choose whatever source you wish, it makes little difference to me either way…'

'A thoroughly admirable detachment, Mr Darcy…'

They descended once more into silence, until he began again, 'How was your weekend…?'

She sighed tiredly, and endeavoured to answer him with some semblance of patience. 'Uneventful, but a welcome rest nonetheless.' She smiled slyly, 'I did, however, have the pleasure of making a new acquaintance…' She looked forward to seeing his reaction when she announced Wickam's name, but he proved to have prior knowledge of the affair.

'You mean, of course, George Wickam….' He met her astounded gaze, 'You work on a small set, Miss Bennet, and gossip is a part of daily life…'

'Yes, Mr Wickam…' she was mortified that the crew had been talking about her.

'I do not doubt that he is one of the sources you mentioned…'

'Yes…' Lizzy regained her courage, 'his tale in relation to you was highly interesting…'

Just then the band finished their number and Lizzy gladly unwrapped herself from him. He looked at her closely. If he was about to say something, Lizzy did not wish to hear it, and she began to walk away. She thought she had safely made her escape, when a hand suddenly seized her tightly above the wrist.

Darcy had followed her, and now pulled her arm with such force that she twirled right back into his arms again! At that precise moment, the band started up with a series of dramatic sultry chords, perfectly timed. She later wondered if Darcy had given them a signal and planned the whole thing.

He held her tight, forcefully pressing her close; one hand still held her arm tightly, whilst the other he placed in the small of her back. Lizzy shivered involuntarily as he slid his knee between her inner thigh and nudged her legs further apart to adjust her stance. She could only stare at him, amazed, as he brought her face close to his and began the first steps to the tango.

It was clear from his expression he was angry and intended to make sure she knew it; the other couples had meanwhile stepped back and formed a ring around them, thinking they were about to be treated to an impromptu display of dance.

Darcy lips brushed her cheek as he hissed at her, 'Now let us be clear, Miss Bennet, I care little enough for your opinion of me and even less for that of your friend George Wickam…'

He quickened his pace at these words and before Lizzy could respond, swivelled her right around and leaning forward, pushed her back and then pulled her forward in a dazzling series of steps all in time to the music. Darcy suddenly dipped her low; her back arched and her long hair almost touched the floor before he snapped her back up again.

'You will find this out soon enough: Mr Wickam is blessed with those engaging manners and happy conduct as to guarantee him friends wherever he goes…'

Again he twirled her out of his arms, before catching her by the hand and pulling her back so close that their lips almost touched, '…but his ability to keep them is less certain..'

Lizzy grew breathless; she was not used to dancing like this. She felt herself being lowered into yet another dip, with his hand at the base of her spine supporting her, but this time as he brought her back up Lizzy seized her chance to speak.

'And wretched indeed is the soul that is as unfortunate as to lose the friendship of Mr Darcy, for it is likely to be an affliction they suffer from for the rest of their lives, as Mr Wickam has found to his cost…'

At this Darcy merely huffed and Lizzy was convinced she had silenced him. A strange feeling arrested her…could it be that she was enjoying this? Darcy danced so well, but the thought of praising this man seemed to betray her friendship with Wickam.

Another swing of the arms and Lizzy was propelled outwards, twirling prettily as she went. Fully expecting Darcy to catch and pull her back again, she stopped dead in her tracks when nothing happened…Darcy was not there to catch her.

In fact, she found to her horror he was not even on the dance floor, but instead she saw him making his way through the crowd and towards the doors without once looking back!

He was leaving…leaving her halfway through a dance…and with the crowds still looking on. Lizzy, humiliated and shocked, could only stare after him, mouth agape…and thanks to Marcie; dozens of photographers were there to capture it all.

Poor Lizzy…amidst the sympathetic looks and what seemed hundreds of flashing bulbs of cameras, she felt a deep blush creeping up her neck and spreading over her face. Though she would never admit it…she had begun to enjoy herself.


	5. An Unwelcome Proposal

_A/N_ My thanks to Sandy W for all her hard work in beta editing this story, and to all of you for reading. **  
**

**Part 5-'…An unwelcome proposal…'**

Darcy tiredly rubbed his eyes as he read the newspaper spread out in front of him, with the headline screaming, 'The Framed Rose Proves It Has Its Thorns'. The two page spread was making him nauseous; what had he done?

Lizzy Bennet had succeeded in making him so angry that for the first time in three years he had gone out and gotten completely drunk. And now the frame by frame shot of his dancing with Lizzy and then abandoning her was proving no cure for a hangover.

He had long forgiven her, his anger had been soon replaced by a powerful, tolerable feeling; it was the thought that George Wickham had encroached upon his life once more that had caused the excess drinking. He was a shadow, a bane he could not shake off…and an immeasurable source of pain to those he loved.

Had he really said her opinion did not matter, that he did not care for it…? How wrong could he have been? As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them; it had been long since her opinion had proved to be the only one that mattered.

Bingley's entrance was as sudden as it was loud and painful to a tender Darcy. He groaned as his friend slapped down a handful of papers on the table, one after the other, in front of him.

'You know, Darcy, it's stunts like this that make my job all that much harder…'

'Bingley…please don't shout…'

Bingley noted the way Darcy was holding his head. 'My God…are you drunk?' He sounded disgusted.

'No…not any more…' Darcy was holding out his tongue, trying to remember what it felt like, without all the fur and awful taste.

Bingley was shouting again, 'What the hell is the matter with you…? Whatever Lizzy may have said or done…nothing…nothing justifies the way you humiliated her last night…' He snatched up a paper and began to read.

'…_Rumours persisted,__ and were given added force yesterday, of a rift between the two main stars of the much-anticipated __and eagerly awaited film, The Framed Rose. Though much denied, the chilly atmosphere between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, who are to portray the lovers Celia and Rupert, was evident at the charity ball they both attended. They were seen to hardly speak at dinner, and though the dance that followed __appeared to be intimate and spontaneous, one could not help but suspect it had all been staged…'_

Bingley fixed him with a stare, 'Ready to hear more…?' At Darcy's feeble 'No…,' he carried on anyway.

'…_No one could know the words that passed between the two during this dance, but the effect of them proved to be quite spectacular. An evidently angry Darcy followed Miss Bennet as she made her way off the floor and engaged her, just as the band was striking up again, in the most passionate, angriest, and sultriest __Tango the surprised audience are likely to have ever seen._

'…_This, __we were soon to realise, __was not staged, for instead of completing the dance and accepting __the generous__ applause for such a fine display of footwork, Darcy proceeded__ to abandon his partner on the dance floor…'_

Bingley paused for effect, fully intending to finish the article, when he was interrupted by Darcy. 'Enough…Bingley, enough, please…I know what I did was terrible and I'm sorry…'

Bingley was not so easily reconciled. 'It's not me you have to apologise to, and you know, Darcy…somehow I don't think 'Sorry' is going to cut it this time…'

Bingley stormed off, slamming the doors purposefully as he went. Darcy let out another painful groan.

* * *

Jane sat curiously eyeing Lizzy as she prepared herself for make-up and costume. She had never been so worried about her sister; events of last night had left Lizzy…curiously calm. Unnervingly calm. Jane had convinced herself Lizzy was planning something diabolical. 

'Lizzy...' she began tentatively, 'are you alright…?' Her sister's reply was surprisingly cheerful.

'Yes, of course…why?'

'Lizzy, we were all there last night; we saw what happened…what Darcy did…'

Jane saw her shrug it off, 'It does no good to dwell on these things, Jane…besides, Darcy will be sorry, I will make him regret it…'

And there it was, the Lizzy she recognised, angry and passionate…but still, shouldn't her expression be a little less lively, and a lot more serious? Jane stared anxiously at her sister.

'Lizzy…?'

'Hmmmm….?'

'Lizzy…you're not planning on hurting Darcy…physically, I mean…' Jane pressed her arm desperately.

'No, of course not…I'm angry, not psychotic, Jane …'

Jane smiled, relieved. She rose to leave but on second thoughts turned back. '…All the same… you wouldn't mind if I took the scissors…the pins…, oh, and this nail file…' She gathered up the items as she spoke, '…They don't let you keep knives in here, do they…?'

* * *

Lizzy sat alone in pensive thought after Jane's departure. She stared deeply into the mirror seeking out all her imperfections. She felt as she did when she had overheard Darcy's view of actresses, just as awful and depressed. Her words to Jane, that she would prove Darcy sorry, had been nothing but shallow bravado; in truth, she had no idea how to take her revenge.

His humiliation of her had proved complete, and he had certainly shown how little her opinion of him mattered…what else was there?

Lizzy's despairing gesture of raising her hand to cover her face and in turn knocking over something to the floor was to provide the answer; as she bent to retrieve the item, she saw her script for the forthcoming scene in her hand.

She smiled, suddenly realising the answer was right before her! It was so simple; Lizzy berated herself for not thinking of it before. Of course, the only thing Darcy truly cared about, was passionate about, was his acting. Lizzy resolved to outdo him at that, she would act him off the screen…give a performance so breathtaking…so real, he would have to admit her worth, her potential…and most importantly, that he was wrong. He would resent the competition and she was sure she could do it…she certainly knew the book well enough.

Lizzy excitedly jumped out of her chair and hurried out of her trailer. She flung open her door and was shocked to be greeted with a painful moan upon doing so. Peeking behind the door, she was met with the sight of Mr Collins woefully rubbing his forehead, nursing what was proving to be a substantial lump.

'Oh no, Mr Collins…are you alright? I'm so sorry…I didn't see you there…'

'That's quite alright, Miss Bennet. I was just retrieving these cards I had dropped…entirely my fault, I assure you…' She wondered at the cards he held in his hand. They had dropped into a puddle, and he was vainly trying to blow the water from them.

'I wonder, Miss Bennet, if I may speak to you, alone…'

Lizzy smiled but shook her head, 'I'm sorry, Mr Collins, but I am expected at make-up, perhaps another time…'

He stepped in her way. 'Please, Miss Bennet…I assure you, it is quite important…'

It was clear he was not going to give way until she had heard him out, and purely in the interest of having it done with as soon as possible, Lizzy, resigned, gestured towards her trailer door.

She suspected something of what he had to say. She had seen him in frequent conversation with her mother, and the both of them had thrown such expressive glances towards her she was left in no doubt as to what they had been discussing.

She thought she saw him sneaking peeks at his cards, arranging them and shuffling them. Lizzy sat at her table, endeavouring to be patient. He looked up now and then, smiling and reading as he went. Lizzy sat up a few times in anticipation when it at last seemed as if he was about to speak, but he simply shook his head and went back to arranging his cards.

It had been a good ten minutes, and Lizzy was about to prompt him when at last Mr Collins did speak.

'Miss Bennet, perhaps I ought to state my reasons for addressing you thus…though I cannot expect you to be too surprised, my feelings for you have long been made clear…but I get ahead of myself…'

Another quick glance through his cards to make sure of what he wrote and he was off again. 'You see, my being a history expert, living alone with my books, has led to assumptions being made in the past amongst my neighbours, with regards to my…sexuality…' Lizzy had to restrain herself from laughing as she saw how he struggled over the word.

'Wrongful assumptions, I must hasten to add…but I wish to allay further embarrassment and question, Miss Bennet, by marriage…to you…'

Lizzy smiled; trust Mr Collins to be the only man in the world who would bring prompting cards when making a proposal. Though she knew her answer long before he asked the question, Lizzy could still not help but feel sorry for him, and in an effort to prevent further embarrassment she endeavoured to stop him before he said another word on the subject.

'Mr Collins…' He interrupted her by raising his hand before she could say anything more. Lizzy rolled her eyes in despair when his back was turned.

'Please, Miss Bennet…from the first moment of my stepping onto the set, I have come to feel strongly for you…your wit and vivacity, though admittedly not exactly suited to my reserved nature…however, I think it's something we will work out, we can tame and quieten that aspect of you, Miss Bennet…'

Lizzy balked at the idea, '_Tame,_ sir…?'

He pretended not to hear her, 'I find you wonderfully endearing, I am convinced you are exactly the type of woman to ensure my happiness…and I am pleased to add my attentions have not been entirely discouraged by _you_… '

Lizzy longed to say that this had been only because she had felt sorry for him, and nothing more, but he blundered on, oblivious, with yet another shuffle through the cards.

'Miss Bennet, you must very well know, the film industry is far from certain, in fact this film itself…the chances of its success are in doubt, to say the least…be that as it may, Miss Bennet you are a sensible woman, I am sure you will appreciate the financial security only a husband with a secure social position such as mine can provide…'

Lizzy had been called many things but never a 'sensible woman'. 'Mr Collins, I thank you for you elegant words and…kind proposal, but…'

Mr Collins did not like the sound of that 'but' and hastened onwards, 'Your mother has led me to believe that my pressing this suit was not entirely hopeless…'

Lizzy shook her head vigorously. 'Then I am sorry, but she was wrong to do so…'

'And I have spoken to your father; he was not forthcoming in his opinion but I believe he is not averse to the match…'

Lizzy was astounded; this was all moving at a pace she found difficult to keep up with. 'You have spoken to my father..?'

'Yes, I went to see him at his rehearsals. We spoke only briefly, as he was extremely busy, but he assured me that he would write to you on the subject…'

Lizzy looked around, puzzled. Spying her mail, she frantically searched through the post, and sure enough, there it was…a letter in a handwriting she fully recognised. Taking her eyes briefly away from Mr Collins appeared to have afforded him the perfect opportunity to suddenly fall to his knees before a startled Lizzy.

He placed a finger on her lips clumsily, 'Miss Bennet…you must allow me to express my ardent admiration and passion for you, and only ask that if your reply is contrary to my wishes that you do not state it now…'

He seemed to gain momentarily in confidence, '…but if your reply is to make me the happiest man in the world, by all means answer at once…' He removed his finger in order to allow her to do so, but soon replaced it again when she seemed hesitant.

'Well, I only ask that you permit me to ask you again in a few months' time…a little hope, if you please…that I may at least have some wish to expect your answer sometime in the future to be…favourable.'

Mr Collins looked so pathetic and forlorn that Lizzy could not help but feel sorry for him. Though she knew her answer could never be different, she could not see the harm in giving him the little hope he craved.

He left happy, and Lizzy was relieved to be rid of him at last. She turned to the note from her father in anticipation. Upon opening it she smiled; it was a short note, elegantly written and characteristically to the point.

_  
My dear Lizzy,_

_ I have endeavoured to send this letter in the hope that it reaches you before a certain proposal. If __it proves to be a little late, it does not signify for I am confident of the choice you will make._

_And now to the particulars: __our mutual friend Mr Collins came to see me a few days ago with regards to a proposal for my favourite daughter. I will spare you the details; suffice it to say __Mr Collins may have proved a novel amusement at first, but I'm afraid soon became tiresome. My only means of escape was to ensure him that my approval would only come after that of my daughter. __I was deliberately vague as to my feelings on the subject. The poor man went away__ hopeful to say the least;__ I, of course, __knew better._

_Your mother called yesterday with her endorsement, afraid that your answer would prove unsatisfactory to both her and Mr Collins;__ she sought to gain my support for the whole affair._

_If you are at all wavering as to your decision,__ Lizzy, perhaps my next words would do something to sway you. The unenviable prospect of henceforth being a stranger to one of your parents is before you:__ your mother will not speak to you again if do not marry Mr Collins, and I state, in no uncertain terms, __that I will not speak to you again if you do._

_There, I have done all that is required of me. __I only add, I have implicit__ confidence in your judgment, Lizzy, __and trust you will make the right decision accordingly._

_As always,_

_Your loving father_

Lizzy folded up the letter and was about to put it away, when her mother barged in without knocking.

'Well, I have spoken to Mr Collins…you have outdone yourself this time, Lizzy…' She spied the letter Lizzy held in her hand. 'Is that a note from your father? Oh, he took the time to write, did he…let me see it…'

Lizzy smiled slyly as she handed it to her, 'By all means, mother…' well aware that his words would not meet with her approval.

Mr Collins' lengthy proposal had already made her late; her mother's anger would have to wait. She eased her way past her and, pushing open the door, hurriedly began to make her way to the make-up department.

But Mrs Bennet was not to be so easily eluded. She finished the note and, angrily scrunching it up in her hand, pursued Lizzy while waving the letter above her head. 'Well, this is exactly what I would have expected from him…favourite daughter indeed…!'

Lizzy carried on walking, 'You were wrong, mother, to give Mr Collins false hope like that, and now I have had to do the same…'

'Is that why he looked so happy..?'

'Are you really so ignorant of my character…' Lizzy called back angrily, 'that after twenty years you still don't know your own daughter's nature well enough to suspect that her answer might be a refusal…?'

'Forgive me for thinking that my daughter of twenty years might finally have come to her senses…your career has hardly flourished, this film, your first, is verging on disaster.'

That stopped Lizzy in her tracks. She turned to face her mother angrily; this was the second person to cast aspersions on her future prospects.

Mrs Bennet refused to be intimidated. 'And you are aware of our financial situation. If you think your parents will support you once you're a washed-up, broke actress…'

Mrs Bennet had been expecting fireworks at this comment but surprisingly Lizzy merely smiled.

'I will endeavour to forgive that little speech of yours, mother…because I know what a difficult time it must be for you…' Lizzy spoke deliberately loud, attracting the attention of the numerous personnel milling about.

Mrs Bennet looked closely at her, puzzled and a little worried. 'What are you talking about, Lizzy...?'

'The hot flushes, the mood swings and the irritability…Mother, it's all quite clear…'

Still Mrs Bennet refused to understand. Lizzy's face turned to mock seriousness, 'It's quite alright, mother…it's nothing to be ashamed of, and you're merely passing onto another stage of the wonderful cycle of life…'

Her mother's eyes widened as she realised with horror what Lizzy was implicating.

'It is a perfectly natural thing for older, maturing women to go through…' Lizzy paused deliberately, '…the MENOPAUSE…!'

Mrs Bennet at first gasped, and then, clutching her chest dramatically, practically screamed at the word. The sniggers of onlookers could not be mistaken. She turned on her heel and hurried away, calling out as she went, 'Elizabeth Bennet…I will never forgive you for this…and I will never speak to you again…'

Her voice faded into the distance, and Lizzy, smiling, merely added, 'What a blessing that would be, mother, if only it were true…' before resuming her quick pace to make-up.

Her step was more self-assured than ever; Lizzy was determined to make a success of The Framed Rose if only to escape the sort of financial security Mr Collins was threatening.


	6. The Great Lady Herself

**Part 6- 'The great Lady herself…**

Harry sat impatiently awaiting his stars; they were late and he had much to thank them for. Their antics last night at the charity ball had earned him a restless night's sleep. Marcie had been a nightmare, and he had been forced to listen as she ranted and raved, screaming like a banshee, and even occasionally throwing things. Plates and cutlery he only narrowly managed to avoid; he had always managed to move surprisingly quickly, when the need arose, for such a large man.

She swore and cursed at him, and banished him to the sofa for the night. He was not to get any peace there, for she followed him and berated him for his poor choice in actors, a highly reprehensible act of poor judgment that was no doubt going to cost her a lot of money. Marcie hated losing money.

That was almost as much as she hated journalists. Darcy's behaviour last night had proved gold dust, and Marcie had to divide her time between cursing him and cursing the many journalists who persisted in calling her.

Throughout the night she had to take numerous, probing calls, always with the same questions, until Marcie eventually became so fed up that Harry watched in growing horror as she threw the phone on the floor and proceeded to jump all over it, smashing it to pieces in a show of rage reminiscent of a demented rain dance!

Consequently, he had suffered. The sofa had been far from comfortable, and he rubbed his sore back. He wearily watched both Lizzy and Darcy arrive late, too tired to be angry…and too dejected to care.

Darcy appeared sheepish, and looking more than a little afraid, but Lizzy bounded in with a surprising energy. A flurry of activity met their arrival, and as the techs milled around them Lizzy and Darcy took their places on the set. They took up their positions; Darcy shuffled his feet, visibly nervous, and it took a few deep breaths before he was finally ready to speak.

'Miss Bennet…about last night, I wish to…' she interrupted him. He could not fathom the reason for her smile.

'Mr Darcy, you stated last night that my opinions and words mattered little to you…well, I believe I may safely state that the feeling is entirely mutual. There, now we have made clear our little regard for each other…however, I, for one, am not prepared to allow our differences to hamper this production in any way. I have too high a regard for this book, Harry and everybody else who works so hard here everyday to jeopardize it by our petty quarrels.'

Darcy looked at her slightly bemused; he had been expecting to be kneed in the crotch at least, not to be confronted with the very voice of reason.

She continued, as calm and as resolute as ever. 'I am willing to be wholly professional about this, Mr Darcy, and aim to ensure this film's success…'

Darcy smiled, 'You're right, of course…as always, so no more disagreements, then…?'

Lizzy laughed quietly, 'Well, I can't very well promise the impossible…let us at least endeavour to get along…however awful we may prove to be at it...'

Darcy had been about to utter words to a similar effect, when Harry called out, 'Alright, people…places…' he trailed off unenthusiastically, '…Oh, who bloody well cares, anyway…let's just get it over with…' He slumped off to his chair, and fell into it with a plop.

The scene they were about to film was an intense one, Rupert is angry with Celia for what he considers to be the games she continues to play with him.

_Encouraging him one moment and then coolly dismissing him another…he could not understand it, nor did he care for it. _

_She had done it again last night, spent the entire evening ignoring him when only the morning before she had declared she was not entirely indifferent to him. She had held his hands in her own then, and smiled lovingly…yet, he could not understand how quickly the changes were wrought in her, and he must owe it to her impetuous youth; not for the first time, he berated himself for ever falling in love with her as if such a thing can ever be helped. _

_They had agreed early that morning to meet by the little grove, sheltered away to one side of the house, underneath a hidden arch set in the recess of the wall, built, it seemed, exactly for the secrecy of lovers. _

_It was a cold morning, and Celia seemed all the more beautiful for it. The weather was bringing a rosy red glow to her cheeks, and the cloak she wore, trimmed with fur around the neck, offered a beautiful contrast with its whiteness. _

_She had come down with hurried steps and, shivering against the cold, had wrapped her body close around him for added warmth. He was still angry with her even as his heart melted in her warm embrace. _

'_Celia, you cannot play these games with me…I will not tolerate it…' _

'_You cannot still be angry with me…? Come, Rupert, it will not do, how could you expect me to act otherwise in front of father…really, you're being silly.' _

_He pushed her away angrily, 'I am nearly twice your age…if we are to talk about silliness, it is these games of yours that must stop…' _

'_Games…? That I do not hang about your neck and coo pretty words…I am not that sort of young woman…perhaps I feel more than I care to display…what does it signify…?' _

'_It signifies a great deal…you have long been aware of my feelings, perhaps I do not care for your engaging my heart for your own amusement…' _

'_You think I consider your heart...your feelings a plaything…I assure if you knew me at all you would not accuse me of such callousness…' _

'_How am I to know what to feel or think, Celia? You have not spoken, and if you do not do so now, I swear to you I will walk away forever…' _

_She stayed resolutely silent. Rupert waited expectant and growing steadily despondent, and still she could not speak. Rupert despaired of her ever doing so and with a heavy heart turned to leave, until he felt a cool hand on his arm that stopped his heart. _

_She turned him around to face her, reaching up she pulled him close. She kissed him so longingly and deeply; Rupert was pleasantly surprised. He pressed her close and she placed a hand on the nape of his neck, reaching up slowly till her hand was in his hair._

Darcy's surprise at the yearning Lizzy displayed matched that of Rupert, though the surprise was quickly matched with a passion of his own. He responded forcefully; the arm encircling her waist tightened and he brought his hand to caress her cheek.

The chemistry was unmistakable; the whole crew watched on, fascinated. Lizzy was certainly giving the commanding performance she had promised; as for Darcy, it was hard to discern whether he was still only acting.

Harry was wide awake, flustered and excited all over again; at last, yes, this was the girl he recognized, with all the passion and intensity he had the foresight to recognize at the auditions.

The kiss proved to be a lingering one; though exactly the length dictated in the book, everybody recognized it was hardly textbook!

_Rupert was amazed at the intensity of her embrace, and wondered how she could understand the longings of the flesh, of the loins and the heart so well… at so young an age. _

_She broke the kiss off at length; breathless, she locked foreheads with him. 'Will that persuade you to stay…?' _

_He returned her smile with a dazzling one of his own. 'You know very well I could never leave you…' _

'_Good. I would be very sorry to part with you now…especially as I've fallen in love with you…' She laughed, delighted with his reaction to these words as he caught her up in his arms and twirled her around and around._

Harry called out, 'Cut and print!' to end the scene; he joined in with the spontaneous applause that greeted his words and, rushing on set, began to gush,  
'That was marvellous, simply magnificent…fabulous, Lizzy I knew you had it in you…' Only then did he remember her co-star, 'And Darcy…well that was…fine.'

Lizzy smiled as she watched Harry scurry off as fast as his fat legs could carry him to call Marcie. Amidst the congratulations and praise from the others, she spied an evidently dumbstruck Darcy, looking on, amazed. She could tell he was impressed, his mouth agape, and an expression of bemusement across his face.

She turned to him, smiling deviously; reaching up, she cupped his chin in her hand and closed his mouth. 'You had best close your mouth, Mr Darcy, it appears as if you are catching flies…'

He beamed at her, 'Well that was…um, it was…' he struggled to find the words.

'A commanding performance, Miss Bennet…' Another voice found the words for him. They both turned to see a severe, older woman peeking out over a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Her hair, which was now slowly greying, was worn up, pinned tightly in a bun. She wore a long, knee-length tweed skirt, and a suit jacket over what appeared to be a high collar blouse, and all in grey. In fact, the only colour on this woman was a necklace of black pearls around her neck.

Even her slight smile was grey, concealing much and offering nothing. Everything about her was neat and tidy and pressed; not a crease or stray hair was in sight. Lizzy recognized her instantly; though she had never before met Darcy's aunt, she had heard much of Lady Catherine, who was the patron of his theatre and head of the committee that ran its affairs.

She was by all accounts a truly formidable woman; she was very rich, very grand and very possessive of Darcy. There had been rumours of her intending to visit her nephew on the set, but Lizzy had heard nothing that allowed her to be daunted at the sight of this woman. Wickham had also delighted her with tales of what she might expect, and he had been entirely accurate.

Lizzy smiled sweetly and boldly, 'Thank you…and may I take the liberty to presume that you are Lady Catherine de Bourgh…?'

'You may, and I am…' she replied coldly.

Lizzy smiled further yet, 'Your reputation precedes you, ma'am…'

'Really…' Lady Catherine did not care for the brash tone in Lizzy's voice, 'and how do I rate, Miss Bennet…tell me, do I come up short..?'

'Not at all, your Ladyship…I am happy to say in this instance general report has been entirely accurate…you are exactly how I would have pictured you…'

The smile playing on Lizzy's face made it difficult to determine if that remark was to be received as a compliment or dismissed as an insult.

The tone between the two ladies was barbed to say the least, and Darcy, as the poor unfortunate soul caught in the middle, was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Still he could not help but admire Lizzy for the fearlessness she was showing.

Lady Catherine had decided she'd had enough of Lizzy's suspect tone and words and turned to her nephew, 'Darcy, I wish to speak to you…alone…' And so saying, she took Darcy by the arm and dragged him away without another word.

Lizzy smiled and shook her head; she was almost beginning to feel sorry for poor Darcy.

* * *

Bingley burst into the room and started speaking before Darcy had a chance to warn him. 'Now this doesn't mean I've forgiven you, but I've come to offer my support. I've heard the grand old lady was coming to see you…' he paused to catch a breath, 'and nobody deserves that…that old bat would chase the very hounds out of hell…' 

He blathered on, entirely failing to notice Darcy rolling his eyes emphatically at him, desperately trying to draw his attention to something behind him.

Not something, _someone_…Bingley finally understood much too late; he gulped loudly and asked in a barely audible voice, 'She's right behind me isn't she…?'

Darcy smiled and nodded.

Bingley turned to see Lady Catherine standing behind him, menacingly tapping her foot and pushing her glasses further up her nose. He beamed disarmingly at her, 'Lady Catherine…what a pleasant surprise…!'

She was unmoved, 'Mr Bingley…well, I would like to say it is good to see you again, but that would be a lie…'

Bingley looked back at Darcy, and seeing him mutter the words, 'Run, man…save yourself…,' wisely decided to heed his advice and beat a hasty retreat.

Darcy smiled, amused; Lady Catherine's face remained as unaffected as ever. She took up one of the papers Bingley had left that morning.

'Interesting headlines, Darcy…'

'Tabloid fodder…it doesn't mean anything…' he replied quietly.

Lady Catherine chose a different approach. 'Miss Bennet is a talented actress and a prettyish sort of girl…I'm sure you've noticed….'

'Aunt…' he tried in vain to stop her, he already knew where this discussion was leading.

She persisted, 'And nothing more, of course…?'

'No…nothing more…' Lie. Darcy resigned himself to the inevitably of it all. It was impossible to tell his aunt that he had long come to think of Elizabeth Bennet as being much more than just a talented actress.

But Lady Catherine was not so easily fooled; she did not trust the smile Darcy wore at the mention of Lizzy's name.

'I am sure I need not remind you of what you owe to the family name, and Pemberley Theatre…your father entrusted you with its safekeeping…I know you will not let him down…'

'I do not see how…?' Darcy was angry; it always seemed to be the same argument.

'Your past misdemeanours I have endeavoured to keep from the rest of the board…the committee know little of it, due to no small effort on my part.' Lady Catherine's familiar tone returned, smiling but always underlined with the faintest hint of menace.

'I am sure you are aware of the debt you owe _me,_ Darcy…'

Darcy endeavoured to keep his bitterness in check, through gritted teeth, 'Of course, Aunt…you know I am eternally grateful…for all that you did on my behalf…'

She smiled and he was repulsed. 'Good… I am glad we understand each other…'


	7. What The Heart Desires

**Part 7-'…What the heart desires…'**

'Oh, I met Lady Catherine yesterday!' Lizzy suddenly declared. It was early morning, and though winter had not yet arrived, there was still a noticeable chill in the air. But Wickham had volunteered they brave the weather and take a walk in the park. Lizzy had not put up much reluctance.

Lizzy had a busy day of filming ahead of her; their walk had to be very early. Lizzy was not sorry for it. Bundled in her many layers of coat, scarf and woolly hat, she talked with Wickham with an easiness that marked how close they had become.

Their mutual dislike of Darcy was a significant factor.

They sat down together on a bench. 'Really…and what did you think of her?' Wickham was amused and seemed to know already what her answer would be.

Lizzy laughed, 'She was exactly as you described her…'

'In that infamous grey suit…?'

She nodded enthusiastically, 'Yes, and that severe hairstyle with the bun…and I could almost swear that thing had a life of its own. I'm sure it had eyes that followed me as she left the room…!'

They both laughed heartily at the picture she painted. Wickham looked longingly at her. 'You have a beautiful smile…'

Lizzy blushed. 'You know, you've said that before…'

Wickham smiled charmingly. 'And no doubt I'll say it again…because it's true…'

Lizzy thought he was going to kiss her. She would not be sorry for it if he was; she believed herself to be in a fair way of falling in love with the ever-delightful Mr Wickham. But it was strange; even as he leaned in, Lizzy pulled back at the last moment, confused, as he obviously was, about her reluctance.

'We missed you at the charity ball…' she quickly turned the conversation, 'I would have liked the opportunity to introduce you to my family…'

Wickham sighed and nodded sorrowfully, 'Yes, I am sorry for it, but I realised I had already made prior commitments…' He trailed off when he realised she was not buying a word of it.

'No…no, you are quite right, I must be entirely honest with you…I had prepared myself and was all ready to come, but as it got closer…I probably couldn't have met Darcy with any semblance of rationality. And I was afraid of my temper…he probably would have provoked me and then…well, I daresay unpleasant scenes would have arisen.'

Lizzy replied angrily, 'I would not have minded seeing you knock him to the floor…!'

'No, but it would have caused no end of embarrassment to those who did not deserve it, Marcie and others…I wouldn't want that…'

Lizzy pouted. 'Well, it's a shame others don't share your scruples. There would have been no need for you to cause embarrassment…Darcy managed remarkably well on his own…'

Wickham smiled sympathetically. 'Yes, I know. I read the papers…and I must say Darcy is a fool…I would never have…'

Lizzy cut him off by rising to leave, 'I think it's time we got back…' He agreed reluctantly.

They walked slowly and silently until Lizzy began again, 'Do you know, I think Lady Catherine is the only character Darcy is afraid of? I've never seen him more cowed before by anyone…'

'Yes, I can well believe it. Lady Catherine is a formidable woman, she holds the highest position on the committee board, and is a patron of Pemberley Theatre. Consequently, she holds considerable influence over Darcy's life…'

Lizzy nodded, understanding perfectly. 'And we all know how much Darcy likes to be the one in control…'

'Lady Catherine has a daughter, Anne…' Wickham continued, 'I think she has long held hopes of the cousins marrying…'

Lizzy was astounded. 'But wouldn't that make their relationship positively incestuous…!'

'Perhaps, but with the combined wealth and influence their union will render, I think Lady Catherine has long considered that to outweigh any inconvenience of the incestuous kind…'

Lizzy smiled. 'I do not know who to feel most sorry for: Darcy with the prospect of having Lady Catherine as a mother-in-law as well as an aunt, or Anne de Bourgh…!'

Wickham laughed, replying emphatically, 'Oh, Anne de Bourgh, to be sure…for facing the prospect of life with such a man as Darcy…'

* * *

Lizzy returned from her walk refreshed and energised to find Jane sitting in her trailer, sad and despondent. Her face was fallen and she held her phone tightly in her shaking hands. 

'Jane, whatever's the matter…what's wrong…?'

Jane was quiet and struggled to speak, 'Oh, it's nothing…only Bingley has left, Lizzy…'

'What…?' Lizzy refused to believe it.

'Yes it's true. I just called his office, because I haven't been able to get hold of him…they told me he has gone to London; Darcy went with him, I believe, but has since returned. Lizzy, I had to hear it from his secretary…she told me she has no idea when or… even _if_ he will return…'

Lizzy placed a comforting arm around her sister. 'But why…?'

'I don't know…they said it was business…he has business there…apparently.' Jane shook her head sadly.

'Well then, there is no reason to disbelieve him, surely …?'

'No, but why didn't he tell me himself, Lizzy?'

Lizzy smiled. 'Jane, men are hardly the most considerate of creatures… Perhaps the business was urgent and sudden and he did not have time to tell you…'

'No, but I thought Bingley was different…'

'I don't doubt that he is…Look, Jane, it's obviously affecting you, this sudden departure of his, so why don't you go and find out the reason for it yourself?'

Jane looked at her sister strangely. 'What…No, I couldn't possibly…'

Lizzy was adamant, 'Yes, go down to London!'

'After him? Doesn't that seem a little….desperate...?'

Lizzy's smile broadened. 'I don't see why…You're an agent, aren't you, Jane? And as far as I can remember, I'm not your only client…Surely you have one or two in London. You'll be going down on business as well, and who knows… perhaps you may just bump into each other down there…' She nudged Jane slyly.

Jane smiled at her cunning. 'Maybe…'

'Oh, come on, Jane…as mother would say, there's nothing desperate where money or marriage is concerned…'

Jane appeared shocked. 'Marriage…?'

Lizzy was not to be fooled. 'Oh, Jane, you're not going to lie to me and tell me you're not madly in love with him…?'

'No, but I would never marry for money….'

'Of course not, it is entirely a matter of convenience that he is so rich….!'

They both laughed heartily together. Jane hugged Lizzy for her encouragement.

'But will you be okay if I leave? I know I promised to stay on set during your filming…'

'I'll be fine…' Lizzy reassured her. 'Besides we're travelling to Hunsford for the final few scenes…and by some twisted, divine humour, Lady Catherine's residence of Rosings Park is situated only a few miles away…so I will no doubt have the pleasure of her company….!'

Lizzy helped Jane pack for her trip, safe in the knowledge that when her sister returned and had cleared up this misunderstanding, she was sure to have a ring on her finger and Bingley on her arm as her fiancé.


	8. Those Dreaded Uncomfortable Silences

**Part 8-'…those dreaded uncomfortable silences…'  
**

The removal to Hunsford of the film crew and actors was amazingly smooth; the only point Harry had insisted upon was Lizzy's family staying behind. Lizzy was far from making any objections.

It was by some strange coincidence that Darcy's cousin, Robert Fitzwilliam, was to play the role of Celia's husband. Lizzy had been inclined to think it a touch of nepotism at first, a sign of Darcy casting his influence, but as soon as she met Robert, Lizzy was ashamed of ever thinking such a thing.

He was tall, and though not as handsome as his cousin, was infinitely superior when it came to manners. He was easygoing, affectionate and humorous. Lizzy wondered at their ever being related.

The two cousins were to stay at the stately Rosings Park with their aunt, whilst Lizzy opted for a quiet bed-and-breakfast as her accommodation.

It was close enough to the set for her convenience and far enough from Rosings to be free from the threat of any visits from any of that quarter. She did not doubt Robert would be willing and more than welcome to visit her, but she was sure of the other two, Lady Catherine and Darcy, being such snobs that descending on a place as lowly as a bed-and-breakfast would be beneath them.

She loved the place. It was a sizable old stone building, complete with leaded latticed windows and heavy oak doors.

Lizzy's renewed commitment to the filming proved a godsend to Harry; they were working through the scenes so well and at such a pace that they were almost up to date with the schedule. Scenes now only took one or two takes to complete, and by all appearances it seemed as if the ice between Lizzy and Darcy was beginning to thaw.

Harry watched them both now, a pleasant smile playing on his chubby face. The scene was by no means a happy one; Celia had found Rupert again, after almost twenty years, only to discover that he was dying.

_Celia knelt__ by his chair. She__ looked at Rupert's gnawed and calloused hand and wondered at her being here again. What a strange few months it had been;__ of all things,__ the search for Rupert had been instigated by her husband._

_He had found the letters she had kept so carefully hidden high in the back of the drawer. She had always intended to burn them, but always failed at the last moment to do so._

_He had not been angry as she had expected;__ instead, surprisingly,__ Henry had volunteered to help her find him again, if only so they could meet as friends once more. _

_She suspected he had wished__ to see her reaction at seeing her former lover again. He __had no doubt expected to meet a rival, but what they had both found, to their shock, was a fast-fading __man._

_It pained her to see him so weak, so tired and ill. The way he had changed, she could not look him in the eye. He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her bowed head. _

'_You won't look at me, Celia? __Have I changed so much…?' he__ whispered coarsely._

_She raised her eyes to him, eyes that stung and overflowed with tears. __'No, but I fear I have…'_

'_Impossible! The only change is that you __have grown more beautiful,__ if such a thing was possible…' He brushed away her tears.__ 'Oh, hush, Celia__… please…'_

_She kissed his hands. __'Rupert…I can't bear to lose you again…not twice in one lifetime…'_

_He pressed her hands with all the strength he could muster; it was pitiful. __'Don't, __Celia…going over the past is unfair…to all of us, including Henry. He __cares for you deeply…what other man would bring his wife back to a man she once loved…'_

_He descended into a fit of coughing. Celia __rushed to get him a glass of water. The handkerchief he had held over his mouth was now spotted with blood; __the sight alarmed him, and he tucked it out of sight as Celia returned._

_'We must take you away from here…' She held the glass as he sipped. 'Come __back with us…'_

* * *

Lizzy sat in the window seat reading a letter from Jane. It was the first she had written since going to London. With regards to Bingley, there was nothing to report; Jane had not met him…yet. But Lizzy saw no reason to be worried. 

She was startled by a knock on the door. She had not expected visitors, but was pleased at the thought it might be Robert, who had promised to see her charming room. Her surprise was entirely genuine then on perceiving not Robert to be standing at the door, but his cousin.

'Mr Darcy…!' She looked at him, bemused; it was such a strange sight to her, him being there.

'I'm sorry…I hope I'm not disturbing you…?' He looked sheepishly at her.

She thought it only polite to invite him in, and with no expectation of enjoyment from this visit, holding the door ajar, gestured inwards. He looked around briefly, as if regretting his decision to come, but stepped in nonetheless.

Her room was long and rectangular, and seemed to be divided into two; a sofa pushed to one side of the wall and a small round table and chairs indicated they were standing in the sitting room. It was only a short step from there to her bed, neatly made up with its chintz coverings which perfectly matched the curtains.

The sight of her bed made Darcy lose all composure completely. He seemed embarrassed to be in her private chamber, and stood stupidly by the window where she had been sitting. She took up a seat at the table and waited patiently for him to begin.

He had come to visit her; it was up to him to make conversation, however painful he found it. He took up the hint and began accordingly, commenting on the seclusion of the place.

She took up the dialogue eagerly, dreading lest they slip into that uncomfortable silence again, 'Yes…yes, it's nice and quiet…peaceful…'

'You like the peace and quiet, then? I don't suppose you get much of that, what with your family…'

'I'm sorry…?'

He quickly perceived her to be offended, and sought to explain himself. 'I only meant, with your family being such a large one…so, you like being alone, then…?' In his nervousness he was repeating himself.

Lizzy laughed slightly, 'Yes… at times it's good to escape all the noise to be alone with the voices in your head…'

Darcy smiled strangely at her, 'I suppose, though there's no escaping the voice in your head…'

Lizzy wondered at his odd tone, 'No…but it does not do to talk about them all that much…at the risk of a padded cell and all that…'

Darcy laughed at her joke. Try as he might, he could not tear his eyes away from her. Something…something about this woman was making _him _ come undone.

'So, how do you like Kent…?'

Lizzy shook her head. 'I don't know. I haven't seen much of it yet…with filming, there's barely been time.'

'I'd be happy to show you around…' The words slipped out before he could stop them. His startled look met hers. Darcy quickly sought to backtrack, '…and I'm sure Lady Catherine will be inviting you to dinner sometime…'

Lizzy laughed merrily at the idea. 'You will forgive me, Mr. Darcy, if I don't hold my breath waiting on such an invitation…!'

The dreaded silence returned soon after this remark, and Darcy dithered only a few moments longer before finally taking his leave. Lizzy stood at the window, puzzled, watching him go. It was clear he found it awkward talking to her, so why bother to visit? It could not be simply to make them both excruciatingly uncomfortable.

She shook her head, shaking away all thoughts of the unsocial, taciturn and strange Mr Darcy, and instead set about composing a reply to Jane's letter.


	9. To Town On Business?

_A/N: Another short part, but as you're all familiar with P&P I'm sure you know what's coming next! _**  
**

**

* * *

Part 9- '…to town on business…?'**

_Rupert was dying.__ Celia had hoped that __removing him to her own house, amongst the fresh, clean air, __would work the miracle she had been praying for, but it was not to be. He had seemed to be getting better. The c__hange had probably bought him some precious extra few months, but the fact still remained… _

_He was dying here, in her arms. The last few days had been terrible. He __had deteriorated horribly and now as she was nursing him __Rupert seemed to sense the end was near._

_He looked up at her,__ smiling. __'It __was the biggest mistake of my life…giving you up. I was wrong,__ Celia…it is not a regret I have learned to live with…'_

_Celia was tearful. __'Hush…you must save your energy…'_

_He took hold of both her hands. __'It always seemed so contrite of me to ask for relief from a God I had long sought to abandon, but I am thankful at least that…providence has sought to unite us…to have these last few months with you…I could only have dreamt of such a blessing…' He __gasped painfully. It proved to be his last breath._

_Celia felt the life ebb away from him. The __tears flowed freely now. She kissed his hands; they were already beginning to go cold. She kissed his face, his eyes and his lips. 'Oh, my darling Rupert...not yet…! W__ait for me…you promised you would wait for me…'_

The whole scene was thick with emotion; the crew, everyone looking on could not help but be affected. Even Harry's eyes were streaming when he called, 'Cut and print…' in a shaky voice. It marked the last scene between Celia and Rupert, and the last between Lizzy and Darcy. She could not help but be pleased by the fact, whilst Darcy just stared at her soulfully from his deathbed.

* * *

Lizzy was worried about Jane. It had been almost two months since her departure to London, and since then Lizzy had received only two letters. The last one had been sent a few weeks ago. Lizzy poured over it again. 

Jane talked about her trip. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had been kind enough to offer her a place to stay, saving her a costly hotel bill. Everything with her clients had been sorted in the first few weeks of her arrival and she had been at leisure since then, though from what Lizzy read she knew Jane found no pleasance in the fact. She stated she did not know what she was still staying in London for. Lizzy knew: Bingley.

As for 'bumping' into Bingley, Jane wrote,

_'…it was easier said than done. We __have not met,__ nor have I heard from him. I know you will say London is a big place and that I ought to be patient, but I have left numerous messages with his office. He __knows I'm here if he wanted to see me. I must conclude, therefore, Lizzy, that he doesn't. __I was wrong.__ He __doesn't love me._

Jane finished the letter with,_ 'Don't worry, I'll be fine' _ironically, exactly the words to ensure her sister worried more than ever. Lizzy knew that Jane's statement was not true; she loved him deeply and would not be 'fine'. She was also angry with herself for sending Jane after him, guilty for sending her to pursue nothing but pain. The majority of her fury was reserved for Bingley, though, for being so utterly inconsistent. He didn't know what he was missing in giving up a soul as perfect as Jane.

Lizzy hurried to her last scene, her black gown billowing around her. Celia buries Rupert in the closing frames of the film, and Lizzy was required to do nothing more than stand around looking solemn as his coffin is lowered into the ground. But musings over Jane had left her oblivious to the time, and consequently late to the set.

She rushed blindly on and was surprised to be joined by Robert. He hurried along with her.

'Confess, Miss Bennet, when you heard that I had gotten the role of Henry, and that I was Darcy's cousin, you were sure there was a touch of nepotism about the whole. I bet you hated me.'

Lizzy laughed uneasily; he could not know how close to the truth he had gotten. 'No…not at all…'

Robert smiled. 'Well, perhaps Darcy did play some part in it. He is a loyal cousin and good friend…'

Lizzy was unconvinced. 'You think highly of him, no doubt, precisely because you are related.'

'No, it's not only that…You have not seen Darcy in the best light, Miss Bennet.'

She laughed slightly. 'There is a better light to Mr Darcy…?'

'Yes, of course.' He nodded emphatically. 'I know he seems haughty and reserved; it's because he's quiet…but I assure you he's lively enough in other places.'

Lizzy could not believe it. 'Really?'

'And as I said before, he is a loyal friend. He has proved as much with his friend Bingley.'

Lizzy was sincerely interested now. 'Do you know Mr Bingley?'

'A little. He is the perfect example of Darcy's loyalty; Darcy is remarkably kind to him…'

Lizzy cut in sarcastically, 'Yes Darcy is, he takes prodigious deal of care of Mr Bingley...'

Robert agreed, 'I would say he does…He lately saved Bingley from what would have proved to be a most imprudent marriage.'

Lizzy stopped in her tracks. _Jane! _'He did what…?'

'Yes, he boasted of it to me only a few days ago.'

Lizzy made a conscious effort to contain her growing anger in an effort to elicit further information from Robert.

'And did he tell you the reasons for this interference? I suppose it is because of money…?'

He was confused. 'No…what do you mean?'

Lizzy sought to backtrack quickly; he of course knew nothing about Jane. 'Mr Bingley has wealth, it is well known; perhaps the fortune of the lady in question was left wanting…?'

Robert disagreed with her. 'No...Darcy is indifferent to that sort of thing, I'm sure. No, I believe there were some objections to the girl's family. The way Darcy described the mother…he had me in stitches…' As if to prove his point, Robert even laughed at the memory of it. 'And the rest of the family, he told me, are not much better…'

Lizzy was mortified. 'And what did that have to do with Darcy? Bingley was to marry the girl, not the mother.'

'Oh, come, Miss Bennet, we all know when one marries, it is inevitably into a family.'

'Still, it is Bingley who would have married. If he could not have any objections, I do not see where Darcy's reservations come into it.'

'But Darcy and Bingley are close friends and he would still have had to spend some time with them…and Darcy has assured me that even that little would prove to be too much…' He laughed, no doubt recalling Darcy's words regarding her mother.

'And so he separated them…?' Lizzy asked quietly.

'I do not know the particulars, but Bingley went to London and Darcy after him. Darcy has since returned, of course…'

Robert Fitzwilliam carried on talking, wholly oblivious to the fact that his companion was shaking from head to foot in barely suppressed anger.


	10. The Not So Humble Proposal

**Part 10- '…The not so humble proposal…'**

It's strange, and perhaps rather sadistic, how fate contrives to bring together two people in the same equation, exactly at that inopportune moment when they hold such polar opposite views of each other.

At the moment Lizzy was re-reading Jane's letters and renewing her hate against Mr Darcy, he was at the same time pacing in his stately room at Rosings, vainly trying to work out exactly what was to be done.

A few short, sharp shots of scotch later and he felt he was able to take on the world, or at least tell Miss Bennet exactly how he felt about her, which to him pretty much amounted to the same thing.

Consequently, when he had worked up enough Dutch courage to eventually knock on her door, they had very different ideas as to how the conversation would go.

'Mr Darcy…!' she exclaimed as she opened the door. She stood holding it ajar for a while, but as it soon became clear he was not going anywhere, she muttered, 'Fine,' under her breath and moved aside to let him in.

There was no other man in the world she would have liked less to have in her room, and hurriedly putting away the letters, she sat down at the table, determined not to say a word.

Darcy seemed in no hurry to talk either; he paced up and down the length of the room, carefully avoiding looking at her bed and often staring at nothing more than the ground.

Lizzy sighed; no doubt this was going to prove another one of their illuminating conversations, she thought. She watched him curiously and was about to rejoice when it appeared he was about to leave without saying a word, but he turned around to face her.

'Harry told me you were unwell…I came to see how you were…' Lizzy had hurried off the set after filming her scene that morning; Roberts's words about Jane, Bingley and Darcy had sent her head spinning and aching.

Lizzy's reply was deliberately stern and quiet, 'I'm fine. It's only a headache.'

Darcy seemed distracted. 'Good I'm glad…that it's only a headache…'

'Yes, it'll soon pass…' She despaired as he began to pace again. He approached her a few times as if to say something…but no, he would only begin pacing again.

He headed once more towards the door and this time he was actually turning the handle, when he turned back with a determined look on his face.

'I can't do it...' he began, '…I can't fight it anymore…I have to tell you that I…I admire, and…and I love you…'

There, it was out.

Lizzy was shocked. She blushed a thousand shades of red and was silent. He took that to be by no means a discouraging sign.

'I know by stating something so wholly incomprehensible I'll be opening myself up to all sorts of speculation, gossip and ridicule…' he laughed, 'I mean who falls in love with their co-star, it's so corny and clichéd…the papers are going to have a field day…not to mention what my family will say and think…' He seemed to reflect on that for a moment, before barrelling on.

'But I've struggled against it and failed, so against my better judgement…against sense and reason…I have to ask you to end my suffering and agree to…marry me!'

Lizzy was shocked, but never wavering in her reply, she answered him as calmly as she could possibly manage. 'I suppose I should thank you…but I can't. I've never desired or cared for your good opinion and you've certainly offered it most unwillingly…I'm sorry if you've been misled, but I'm sure the feelings you've described will soon pass, given the scruples you've had in declaring them in the first place…'

She saw his expression change as he heard her carefully worded reply; he turned first red and then an ill-looking pale shade. He was having trouble forming words, and Lizzy quickly discerned that he had been expecting an entirely different reply. However much he may have wished to appear the cautious courtier, Lizzy was sure he had anticipated her reply to be much more positive.

He spoke at last, 'And that's your answer, is it…? I should wonder at your lack of civility, but then again I really shouldn't expect better… given your background…'

He was clearly angry and hurt; he wished her to feel some of it, too.

'Civility…?' Lizzy exclaimed incredulity, '…you want to talk about _civility?_ I suppose it was 'civil' of you to tell me that you loved me against your better judgement, against reason and sense…Wouldn't that be an excuse, if I was uncivil...?' She was practically shouting at him now, breathless, angry and passionate.

'But there are other reasons for my objections, and 'uncivil' words, you know there are…Even if I did like you, enough to marry you, do you think any temptation would allow me to accept the one man who has probably ruined the happiness of a much-loved sister…?'

She saw him stare wide-eyed at this. 'I know what you did, how you worked to separate Jane and Bingley…you cannot deny it…'

Darcy grew calm again, and to her infuriation Lizzy thought she saw him smile ruefully. 'I have no wish to deny it…I did everything humanly possible to part them…and I'm glad I did…I ought to have been as kind to myself…'

Lizzy wanted to slap him. 'And long before this…even if this had never happened, I know exactly what you are…I heard it all from Mr Wickham!'

Darcy hurried up to her in a few sudden steps; she retreated, suddenly afraid of him. He glared at her. 'Oh, and the well being of that man is of the utmost importance to you…'

Lizzy refused to be intimidated. 'What you did to him, ensuring his current state of poverty… why wouldn't it be, to anyone with an ounce of compassion and humanity…which are exactly the things you are devoid of…'

He offered no reply to the accusation, and instead passed a hand over his face. 'Finally, it's all out, exactly what you think of me…Well, according to you, my character is greatly flawed; thank you for your very thorough explanation.

'But perhaps there would not have been much fault to find had I hidden my reservations about you and a connection with your family. I'm not about to make any apologies for what I said. I don't lie, Miss Bennet. You couldn't expect me to be happy and overjoyed at the prospective connection with a family of nothing more than bit-part actors…!'

Now it was Lizzy's turn to rush up to him she stood only inches away from him; she had done away with trying to contain her anger. 'You're wrong…completely wrong if you think that the way you have declared yourself has affected me in any other way than simply to spare me any feelings of compassion or pity I might have felt had you been more kindly and gentlemanly in your choice of words.'

He seemed amazed at her anger and listened, dumbfounded.

'From the moment I overheard your conversation, when I rightly slapped you in reply, and then onwards, I have not thought of you except as being the most arrogant, conceited and cruel man I have ever had the displeasure and misfortune to meet. I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world I would ever marry…and it was even sooner than that when I realised I hated you….!'

Darcy appeared horrified at the idea, and refused to believe her. He shook his head vigorously. 'No…no, this year we've spent together filming, I watched you…I looked in your eyes, there was something there…You're not that good an actress…'

She smiled at him cruelly, 'And how would you know? Believe me, the only thing you could have seen was my disgust….!'

She saw him reel at this, and Lizzy briefly thought she may have been too harsh, but it was said and the words could not be taken back, nor did Lizzy wish to take them back. He turned on his heel and left without another word. Lizzy heard the heavy slam of the entrance door behind him.

Lizzy, amazed and shocked at what had just passed, collapsed in the chair, exhausted.


	11. Dinner And Detailed Explanations

**Part 11- '…dinner and detailed explanations…'**

Lizzy did eventually get that invite from Lady Catherine that Darcy had promised, and what a time to get it! Robert Fitzwilliam appeared at her door, barely a half-hour after Darcy had left. He explained his aunt had extended a dinner invitation which included her, seeing as she was to leave in the morning now that all her filming in Kent was complete.

He asked her if she was feeling well. She looked pale and seemed distracted; it took her a while to form a reply. 'Yes…I'm fine. There's nothing the matter…nothing at all, nothing…' she replied a little too emphatically while shaking her head. He looked at her strangely.

He thought it best to leave and, stating that a car would be sent round to pick her up, promptly did so.

Lizzy spent the next few hours in a daze, thinking over what Darcy had said and what she had said. It took longer than usual to prepare for Lady Catherine's dinner. On the one hand, she didn't want to give Lady Catherine an excuse to find fault with her, but on the other, she equally didn't wish it to appear as if she were rubbing Darcy's nose in it. She dreaded seeing him again so soon and was glad she would be leaving tomorrow, returning to the set and Herrington Estate. She would not have to see him there. Darcy and Robert still had scenes to finish here in Kent.

* * *

Dinner was going to prove an uncomfortable affair, to say the least. The dining room was one long rectangle with the grand dining table stretching to the entire length of the space. The whole room and the table itself were spectacularly furnished, with huge paintings, flickering candles and gleaming cutlery. 

The guest list was a pathetically short one, consisting entirely of Lizzy herself. Harry had been invited but had cried off with some excuse Lady Catherine had not cared to listen to or relay to the others. The party, therefore, was a meagre five persons altogether: Lizzy, Lady Catherine, her daughter Anne, Robert and Darcy. They took up residence at one end of the table, and the rest stretched away from them, a disused and redundant sea of polished walnut.

Despite the scant number of guests, the dinner was still by all means going to be a grand affair. Servants milled about the place, bringing and removing plates with a wondrous flair. Lizzy tried to appear her normal self but being seated with Darcy on one side and Anne de Bourgh on the other left her flustered. He was more grave and quiet than she, so Lizzy took the opportunity to survey the appearance of Anne. She was a thin, pale and sickly looking girl, with dark rings under her eyes and what Lizzy was sure was a slight tic above her lip on the left side. She did not appear to be the sort of girl Darcy could even feign an interest in, but what did she know, she thought only this morning that Darcy hated her as much as she did him.

Lady Catherine had entirely manipulated the situation so that Lizzy would find herself between the two cousins; she was still suspicious despite Darcy's continued declarations that he felt nothing for Miss Bennet. She carefully watched the interaction between them and was pleased to note there was little to see. Darcy did not look at Lizzy once.

Lady Catherine smiled. She could afford to be more pleasant to Miss Bennet now. 'You are very quiet this evening, Miss Bennet. Not unwell, are you?'

Lizzy looked up, surprised. 'No, not at all…I'm very well, I thank you…' She felt Darcy shift uneasily.

Lady Catherine continued, 'Well, I suspect it's because you have to leave a place as beautiful as Kent…you ought to have petitioned Harry to do more filming here.'

Lizzy smiled painfully, 'I don't think that would have been possible, only the last few chapters of the book are set here…'

Lady Catherine was not really listening. She watched for a reaction from Darcy, a betrayal of his disappointment at her departure, and was satisfied there was none. 'Well, it's a shame…but at least I'll still have my two nephews. They will still be _here_…'

There was a sharp clang that made Lizzy jump. She realised Darcy had dropped his fork. He stood up abruptly. Everyone was surprised; only Lizzy did not turn to look up at him, and he glanced briefly at her instead. 'Please…excuse me…'

Lady Catherine was clearly annoyed at his apparent rudeness. 'Darcy…are you alright? Where are you going..?'

'I've…it's nothing…' he mumbled, almost running to the door, 'I wish you all a good night…'

Gone! Nobody knew where to look; this was a strange dinner party indeed, where it was either impossible to talk or impossible to care enough to make the effort. The whole evening was strange. Robert attempted to spark a conversation with Lizzy, with his usual characteristic easiness, but she seemed so preoccupied that he could not get more than a few sentences out of her.

Never could a group of people have been happier to see the dessert and wine finally finished. Lizzy was relieved to be going at last. As she made her way across the gravel walk, her heels purposefully scrunching against the stones, she pulled her coat tighter around her. The chill in the air was more noticeable than ever.

She had almost reached the car waiting for her when the sound of a second pair of footsteps startled her. In another moment Darcy was standing before her. Even in the dark she could see he wore an angry expression. He thrust an envelope at her…a letter, thick and heavy. She took it almost instinctively.

'Read it…' he angrily snarled at her, 'read it… and then tell me I don't have every reason in the world to hate him.' He was still in his dinner suit. She realised he must have been writing it whilst they were all sitting downstairs; it must have been the reason for his abrupt departure. He turned to leave but stopped. His expression changed and his voice softened.

'It is unlikely we should meet again, Miss Bennet… I know the thought does not make you unhappy, only …I…I wish you all the happiness in the world, Miss Bennet. I don't think I've ever met, or am likely to meet, anyone who deserves such a sentiment more…' He sighed deeply and left.

Lizzy was left shocked by it all. At that moment the moon appeared out of its shadows, and as she turned over the letter in her hand she noted her initials on the front. She folded it over, thrust it deep into her coat pocket and hurried to the car, anxious to be home, far away from Rosings and anyone remotely connected with it.

* * *

Lizzy rubbed her aching head as she got ready for bed. She was tired. It had been an amazingly long day, and she doubted she was going to get much sleep tonight. 

Her bags were already packed and placed close to the door; she had made arrangements to leave early. She picked up her coat, and as she was about to drape it over a chair, it fell to the floor and she bent down wearily to retrieve it. The letter had fallen out of her pocket, the same letter Darcy had given to her in his aunt's driveway.

With no other expectation than a burning curiosity, she sat down cross-legged on her bed and opened it. It was three pages, closely written.

_Don't__ worry; this letter doesn't contain any repeat of those sentiments or of the offer you found so disgusting this morning. Rest assured you have made your feelings perfectly clear on that point. It would be best for us both to forget the whole thing._

_But I cannot forget the accusations you made against my character with regards to Jane and Bingley, and the weightier one where Wickham__ is concerned._

_Let us deal with what I consider to be the lesser of the two evils first: __your sister and my friend. As I have already stated,__ I did separate them and make no apologies for having done so. __I wished to save my friend from disappointment._

_I watched you sister, Miss Bennet, her behaviour on the set and at the charity ball, and I can honestly say I saw no particular regard from her for my friend._

_Perhaps I was wrong, you know your sister better,__ of course, but even though she was open and cheerful I soon concluded her to be that way with everyone. It __may surprise you to know that she was even nice to me!_

_She did not reject his attentions but from what I perceived she did nothing to encourage them,__ either. I was concerned for Bingley; it was easy to see, from what he said and the way he behaved, that he was very much in the way of falling in love with Jane Bennet._

_And so I acted.__ I proposed that we go to London on business. He agreed, __a little reluctantly at first. There I put all this before him, beginning with the embarrassment a connection with a family such as yours would entail. I doubt this would have worked very much at all, had I not further persuaded him of your sister's indifference. He had hitherto believed her to return his affections, but Bingley is uniquely modest, more reliant on the judgement of others than his own and particularly reliant on mine._

_If I was wrong and have caused your sister unnecessary pain then I apologise, but I did everything with only the very best of intentions. There is only one part of the whole affair that I have to be ashamed of, a small deception of my own._

_I knew of your sister's stay in London. __I did not think Bingley's__ regard done away enough quite yet for him to meet her in relative safety; thus, __I instructed his secretary, through a little misplaced flattery, to ensure that any messages he received were screened through me first. This way I was able to make sure he heard and thought nothing of Jane Bennet._

_There is nothing more__ to be said on the subject and I find no reason to apologise further._

_Next:__ to George Wickham.__ You accused me, Miss Bennet, __of a lack of compassion and humanity there; let us see if we can engage yours__ in a true vein._

_Have you ever felt so low, Miss Bennet,__ that every movement, the simplest, a raising of the arm, a turning of the head or even the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, proved to require a tremendous, concerted effort? And that effort required was becoming more laborious and painful every day?_

_I have. Should I describe it to you? It is as awful as falling into the deepest, darkest waters, where the dark and the cold are__ all-consuming, __where all hope and prayer must be given up, because you cannot even begin to see the surface,__ let alone break through it._

_I don't write these words in an effort to engage __your pity, Miss Bennet. From __your words this morning I have long come to conclude that I should not hope to ever receive so generous a sentiment from you._

_I write them because the very cause for such despondency lies with the actions of your friend, George Wickham. I do not know what he has told you, though given the strength with which you sought to chastise me I will not wonder at the success he has had in imposing his views on you._

_Mr Wickham and I were brought up together and, yes, __my father did love him as a son, perhaps more than his natural one, but he also trusted the wrong son, and that is where my bitterness and resentment lie. _

_Whereas__ my father bound me to Pemberley Theatre for eternity, he offered Wickham a release in the form of a sizeable amount of money and a share in the theatre. But Wickham, and here I really cannot blame him, __sought to make good his release; he had surmised – rather foolishly, as it turned out – __that a career in the film industry would be more profitable, and no doubt it would have been had he the patience or resolve to undertake proper training._

_He took the money, sold his share to me and was gone. __I cannot pretend to be sorry;__ his tendency to chase and then abandon the chorus girls was a dubious charm that was beginning to wear thin. He was never any good with money. He __did very well spending it but __was not the type to be forward-thinking __enough to save for a rainy day. He __was soon back._

_He told me his plans had not worked out. He __had the nerve to ask for more money and for the return of his share __in the theatre. Tha__t would have been impossible. Had I complied then __I believe I would have been taking care of Wickham's finances for the rest of his life. It __was not a prospect I would have relished. He was angry and abusive, to say the least. I thought __I had seen the last of him. How wrong could I have been?_

_I must now relate an incident to you, Miss Bennet, that I wish __to God I could forget. It __is a secret I have been at pains to keep from the world. I have every faith in your confidentiality__ and do not fear it travelling further through your means._

_A couple of years ago Wickham reappeared, a blot on the horizon. He enticed Georgiana into a secret relationship. She __had only just turned sixteen. You ought to have seen what she was then, Miss Bennet. All __our lives have been spent at the theatre.__ Georgiana had grown up watching Prima Donnas __sing to standing ovations, seeing__ inspiring thespians die a dramatic Shakespearean death, and it was all she ever aspired to. _

_But he came and wrought a change in her so profound, so complete that she suffers from it still. Wickham__ had made many unsavoury friends during his stint as a would-be actor and it was in this way that he introduced various vices to my impressionable sister._

_I cannot help but think that it was all in the name of revenge against me. He took pictures of her drinking heavily one evening and passed out on the floor of some seedy nightclub. He showed them to me and said that he would have no scruple in selling them to the papers. The story of a young, rising star like my sister having a supposed drinking problem __would have been like dynamite for us all._

_He demanded a payment of twenty thousand pounds for the pictures, a sum not easily obtained. You see, __my father sought to save his children from__ the temptations of this world. He perhaps had not counted__ on his adopted son introducing them to his only daughter. My father tied up all our wealth in the theatre, and set up a committee to ensure it was spent well. Our __money is not our own. We __are held accountable for every penny to the committee. It is perhaps the reason why I am so resentful towards my father._

_I could not raise twenty thousand pounds so easily. The __project I was working on had a contract to __be completed before payment, and Wickham showed no inclination __to patience. _

_I was forced, I am ashamed to say, to steal the money. I knew of a sizeable donation that was to be made. __I siphoned off the amount I needed, fully intending to repay__ the money before it could be discovered. But it was discovered, by the one person in the world from whom I ought to have nothing to fear:__ my aunt, Lady Catherine._

_Ever since,__ she has held the discovery over me__, influencing every decision I make and analysing every step, and always with that menacing reminder that I face losing everything if the dreaded committee ever found out._

_She assumed my theft to be attributed to some addiction, gambling or otherwise. I __allowed the assumption to stand;__ better that I should bear the brunt of Lady Catherine's disapproval than Georgiana suffer it. I can stand it better than my sister. She __must already live with the pain that because of a moment __of youthful trust placed in the wrong man, her brother has been tied up in pitiful straits._

_I hope now you will finally acquit me of a lack of humanity and compassion, and understand why I can never forgive George Wickham __for all the misery my sister and I have suffered and continue to suffer._

_One last word: Miss Bennet, __my wealth, my whole life has never been my own.__ I always appear to be at the mercy of others. Perhaps in proposing to you, unknowingly, deep within my subconscious__, I wished to claim you as a possession; if that is the case my proposal ought to invoke shame. But I cannot blame myself for wanting something truly for my own, wanting someone…you._

_If a repulsion of my character leads you to disbelieve still all that I have written, you may ask my cousin Robert to verify the details. He__ is the only other soul in this world apart from you who knows anything of the whole sorry affair._

_Goodbye, Miss Bennet. __I will make sure you have this letter in your hands before you leave this evening._

_Fitzwilliam Darcy_

Lizzy read the letter with a growing disbelief. What he had said about his efforts concerning Jane and Bingley infuriated her and in a fit of anger she threw the letter to the floor, determined not to look at it.

But the things he had said against Wickham…surely they couldn't be true. Well, they must be, she thought, or why else would he cite Robert as a reference if he were not certain of his cousin corroborating the story? She read and re-read the whole thing a number of times before it truly sank in: Wickham had lied to her!


	12. How Could I Have Been So Wrong?

_A/N: Well I guess this is the point in the story where__ you decide to stick with it or run screaming for the hills! You'll see what I mean..._**  
**

**Part 12- '…How could I have been so wrong…?'  
**

Lizzy was right; she didn't get much sleep that night. She doubted she would ever sleep well again. She was glad she had packed the night before as it allowed her to leave mercifully early. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to anyone.

Her head was aching and swirling in equal measures. She must have read Darcy's letter a dozen times over, yet every line offered a fresh revelation. She was disgusted with the first half, where he had described his actions regarding Jane and Bingley, and further stating he had no case to answer only infuriated her.

But at least there was now some hope that Bingley was not entirely indifferent to Jane, considering the lengths to which Darcy went to hide Jane's presence from him in London. There was still the matter of her family, though, and whatever the truth of it, the fact still remained that their actions were partly to blame for Jane's current unhappiness. The thought saddened her.

But when the letter came to mention Wickham…My God, she thought…what revelations were to be had there. Considering it contained such intimate truths with regard to his sister, Lizzy could not help but acknowledge the genuineness of it. He wouldn't make up such lies…such damning lies. She had tears in her eyes when she read over what Wickham had done, and what he had tried to do, to that poor girl…and all as revenge against Darcy? It was despicable.

And she could not help but feel sorry for Darcy. His words describing his depression, the worry for his sister and the stranglehold Lady Catherine had over him made her heart ache at the thought of how she herself had spoken to him only yesterday…how cruel she had been.

No wonder Wickham had kept away. Darcy may have just killed him, and justifiably so. All those lies he had told her, and she had fallen for every single one of them…how? She had always been a cynic, never taken anything at face value…but Wickham, she had wholly trusted him within a matter of hours.

Why? She could not help but think vanity had played a major part in it. Wickham had flattered and charmed her upon their first meeting, whereas Darcy had immediately dismissed her. It could be the only reason she had fallen in love with one and developed so pointed a hatred for the other. She knew nothing about either man in truth.

And all the time, on the long drive back the same thought preyed on her mind. How could she have been so wrong?

* * *

Darcy attempted, at breakfast that morning, to appear as if he were listening as his aunt chastised him on his rudeness last night. He seemed to be doing a good enough job; she had not yet ceased talking. He stole a quick glance at the antique grandfather clock at the far end of the room. It had just gone nine, but he knew with a curious certainty that Elizabeth Bennet was already halfway home by now, driving out of Kent… and driving out of his life, for good. 

The past year, all that time he had worked with her, watched her, all the time thinking her barbed comments and fencing of wits with him had been just that. He had thought she was tempting him, flirting with him…encouraging him.

And in truth, her words haunted him…throughout it all she actually hated him. How could he have been so wrong?

* * *

'And he was in love with you…all that time… Poor Mr Darcy…' Jane had returned only a few days before Lizzy, and it was only now that Lizzy had the courage to relate to her sister what had taken place between her and Mr Darcy in Kent. She had been careful to avoid mentioning anything about Bingley. She did not think even Jane was forgiving enough to pardon the part her family had played in bringing about her separation from the man she loved. 

'Yes…poor Mr Darcy…' Lizzy sighed alongside her.

'No…I did not mean that anyone who falls in love with you ought to be pitied…quite the contrary, of course….'

Lizzy smiled. 'I know what you meant Jane…it's quite alright…'

But Jane had another thought on the matter, one that despite all her attempts she could not shake off. 'Lizzy…forgive me for asking, but I cannot help but think…Lizzy, is this… what you meant…?'

Lizzy was genuinely puzzled as to what her sister was alluding. 'I don't understand, Jane…?'

'When you said that Darcy would regret it…that he would be sorry for what he did to you at the ball…was this your revenge?'

Lizzy still shook her head. 'Jane, what do you mean…?'

Jane took Lizzy's hand in her own. 'Did you mean to make him fall in love with you…so that you may have the pleasure of rejecting him…?'

Lizzy snatched her hand away from her sister, shocked. 'No…I had no idea he was in love with me…I thought he disliked me as much as I did him…I never dreamt… When I said I would make him sorry, I meant through acting. I intended to act him off the screen…that is all. Jane, how could you think such a thing of me, to think that I could be so cruel…?'

Jane was at once repentant. 'Lizzy…I'm sorry. Of course I know you're not cruel, I know you would never hurt anyone deliberately…not even Mr Darcy.'

'Well I'm glad you think so…' Lizzy sighed and sat down next to her sister again. 'I know you feel sorry for him, but I think he has other feelings…they'll soon drive away any regard he might have had for me.'

Jane pressed her hand once more. 'Lizzy, considering what's happened and what we now know, what are you going to do about Wickham?'

'I don't know…I feel such a fool, Jane, trusting him so blindly…I cannot think of it without shame…'

'You have nothing to be ashamed of; it was not you who was deceitful.'

Lizzy bit her bottom lip in anxiety. 'I know…should we tell anyone what he is, what he truly is…?'

Jane was undecided. 'He has only a small part in the film. I'm sure he'll be gone soon, and with any luck that'll be the last we see or hear of him. What do you think?'

'I think…we had better not try. Nobody would believe us anyhow. You know how well Wickham is liked around here, and Mr Darcy has not given me permission to tell the world of his grievance with Wickham, especially as it concerns his sister…'

Jane nodded, 'Yes, of course. We'll keep it to ourselves, then, but Lizzy, I'm worried for you. How are you ever going to face Wickham? What will you say to him…?'

Lizzy's face at once became stern. 'I don't know, but whatever it is, I know I won't make it pleasant.'

* * *

Lizzy had secretly been wishing that she would not have to confront Wickham. She had very much hoped that he would leave quietly and that she would never see him again. 

But Wickham knew nothing of Mr Darcy's proposal or his letter and he thought himself as much liked by Lizzy as ever. He caught up with her as she hurried along to her trailer. 'Hey…'

Lizzy stopped and turned, even though she recognised the voice; she said nothing.

'I'm glad you're back. How was Kent…?' Wickham was unruffled and smiling, as always.

Lizzy smiled slightly in return. 'Illuminating…'

The peculiar smile had him slightly worried. 'Oh…?' he asked in trepidation.

'I didn't see much of Kent, but I did learn quite a bit about it, about the people connected with it in particular…'

Wickham laughed. 'Yes I'm sure Darcy was as insufferable as ever…' Wickham attempted to disguise his suspicion at the tone of her voice.

She looked him directly in the eyes. 'I think we have been a great deal too harsh on Mr Darcy in general. He improves, you know, on closer acquaintance…'

'Really…? I'm glad if he has improved. Are we speaking of his manners or of a broader improvement…?'

Lizzy smiled widely now. 'No…no, in manners he is as he ever was, as rude and obnoxious, but I feel the more one learns about the man, the better one's understanding of him… of what he is and why he takes such pains to be so unpleasant. One may even begin to understand the reasons behind it…'

'What have you learnt…?' Wickham replied quietly, knowing full well what she knew.

Lizzy was in no mood to talk to him any longer. 'I don't care for playing games, Mr Wickham. I care even less for the one you have played with me…'

Wickham smiled slyly. 'Games…? I only told you what you wanted to hear…it's hardly my fault that you didn't think to question me on details…'

Lizzy was disgusted. How could she not have seen the deviousness and sheer gall of this man before?

'What you did…what you almost did to that poor girl…You're despicable!'

In her anger Lizzy failed to notice her voice was rising, and she was beginning to attract a crowd. 'You're a liar and a thief, and it'll be a cold day in hell before I ever let you take me for a fool again!'

He laughed at her; she shook her head. 'I can't believe I ever…Darcy is ten times the man you are. I'm going to make sure I don't ever even have to breathe the same air as you again. I've spoken to Harry. He's more than happy to rework the scenes. I won't be surprised if you're edited from the film altogether.'

It was Lizzy's turn to smile triumphantly as she watched his face fall.

'Nobody does that to me,' he shouted angrily. 'You're making a big mistake…' he threatened her.

She wasn't the least bit unnerved. 'Yes I can, and I already have. As for making a mistake, I've made so many this past year…by far the biggest being trusting you, but believe me, that won't happen again.'

As he grabbed her wrist menacingly and twisted her arm painfully, a few of the onlookers sought to intervene, but they need not have worried. Lizzy was more than capable of handling the likes of George Wickham.

Stepping close to him and shifting all her weight on one leg, she suddenly lifted the other and, drawing it back, kneed Wickham directly in the crotch! He went down like a sack of potatoes, releasing his grip on her arm and placing both hands over his aching manhood.

She walked away from him, turning a deaf ear to the threats he uttered that she would regret what she had done and to the profanities that he screamed at her.

* * *

She sat trembling, Darcy's letter literally shaking in her hand. The confrontation with Wickham had left her drained. She did not regret her actions toward him, but, God, did she rue the mistakes of the past year. 

Lizzy kept going back to that letter. The depression…he had said he was drowning, but he had hidden it so well behind that cool and calm façade. He had been falling apart and she had done nothing, suspected nothing.

More than likely she had made it worse, forcing him to explain himself to her, to recall all those bitter memories about his sister and his blackmailing aunt. Lizzy had never been more inclined to think better of Darcy than now, when it was too late, when he would no doubt be likely to reject her help if she at all offered it.

She could never forgive him for Jane, but she could learn to be kinder.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Lizzy wanted nothing more than to be at home, surrounded by familiar things. Even the incessant chatter of her mother could prove a welcome distraction. Surely that was where meagre comfort would now lie. She carefully folded over the letter and placed it in her bag, then hurried out of the trailer. Swinging the door wide open, she was surprised to hear a dull crunch and then a muffled moan. 

This had happened before, but surely not to the same person twice. Sure enough, peeking behind the door Lizzy found poor Mr Collins, this time holding his nose.

'Mr Collins, my God, are you alright?' She looked him up and down regretfully. His nose was beginning to bleed. Lizzy hurried him into the trailer and handed him a box full of tissues.

He took a few and, rolling them up lengthwise, tilted his head back and stuffed them up his nostrils. She placed a cold compress over the bridge of his nose; it was beginning to swell dreadfully.

'Mr Collins, I'm so sorry, but what are you doing here…?' She sat opposite him.

'It's been six months, Miss Bennet; surely you can't have forgotten…You gave me that little hope, Miss Bennet. I've come to ask again.'

This could only happen to Mr Collins. The first time he had come to propose she had almost given him a concussion; now she was sure to have broken his nose.

Of course, she recalled his proposal, but had it really been six months already? How much had happened since then. Perhaps it was because her head was swimming with the recent encounter with Wickham, the way he had laughed at her, or the fact that she had been so wrong about Darcy. But whatever it was, in that insane moment Lizzy's answer surprised them both.

'Yes…' Mr Collins wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. He had begun to recite once more his ardent feelings for her. Lizzy could stand it no longer.

'What…?' He looked ridiculous, speaking in that nasal voice and with tissues stuffed up his nose. But she was certain in her reply.

'Yes…I'll marry you…Mr Collins…' The shock and excitement sent his nose bleeding again, and Lizzy had to listen to his exclamations of delight and felicitation in between changing bloodied tissues.

More than once, Lizzy disbelieved her own answer. 'Have I really just said yes to Mr Collins?'


	13. A Very Public Engagement

_A/N: For those of you still reading this, you brave few, I commend your strong constitutions and hope you can hold onto your stomachs for a little while longer, the engagement continues! _

_And to those of you that have fled to the hills, I don't blame you, in fact if the rotten tomatoes start flying I may just join you!_**  
**

**

* * *

Part 13- 'A very public engagement…'**

He knew he was drinking too much, far too much. But it helped. Solace really could be found in the bottom of a glass, or, in his case, a bottle. The pressure and bitterness over the past month were building everyday in his chest, getting heavier and heavier, weighing him down. And all the time he knew that any minute it could all fall apart. He could fall apart.

The drink made him forget, made him lighter so that he could at least breathe again. And Darcy needed to breathe, needed huge gulps of refreshing, cleansing air; he needed to be free, free to forget Elizabeth Bennet had ever existed.

It was impossible; every waking moment, even the ones where he was half-dead with drink, all he saw was her, her through the haze, hating him, accusing him. He was sincere in his letter to her about his depression. It had plagued him most of his life, due in no small part to his father's expectations of him. But it had been at its worst these past few years. Wickham and Lady Catherine could be thanked for that.

He had avoided prescription drugs where he could; Darcy knew that once he turned to them, fighting the disease on his own would prove a near impossibility. And he thought himself a great deal too young to roll into the Betty Ford clinic just yet.

* * *

Bingley eyed his friend wearily. Darcy looked very much the worse for wear and it was only ten in the morning. He had been struggling to keep stories of Darcy's erratic behaviour and drinking to a minimum, but today there was a full-spread feature on the contrasting fortunes of the two co-stars. Elizabeth Bennet's story was an altogether different one to that of Darcy's. 

He strode up purposefully and snatched the bottle away from him. Darcy barely stirred. Bingley noticed the same paper he was holding strewn around Darcy's feet; Lizzy's face stared up at him from the scattered pages.

'What are you doing to yourself, Darcy…? I don't understand it. What the hell's the matter with you? This past month you've been like a ghost. And you're drinking too much…' He waved the bottle in front of him reproachfully.

'Not nearly enough…' Darcy's muttered reply was barely audible over the sound of Bingley pouring the whisky down the sink. Darcy didn't try to stop him; he merely twirled the shot he had already poured around and around in its glass.

Bingley leaned against the sink watching him. 'I see you've read the papers, then…quite a shock, don't you think…?'

Darcy shrugged his shoulders. 'Why…?'

'Oh, come on, we all know how slimy Collins is. The fact that Lizzy agreed to marry him doesn't surprise you…?'

'No…she's allowed to marry who she wants… I'm sure they'll be very happy together…' Darcy raised his glass in a mock salute. 'To the new Mrs Collins: may we all learn to move on as quickly as she has …' He threw the drink down his neck in one swift slug.

Bingley couldn't understand the latter part of his sentence. 'Well, it surprised me, at least. Jane always said…' he stopped himself on the familiarity of her name, 'that is, Miss Bennet always said that Lizzy didn't care for Collins…'

'Well, maybe she changed her mind…' Darcy snapped angrily.

Bingley was annoyed with him. 'I don't understand you, Darcy…You've worked with this girl for nearly a year. Are you telling me in all that time, that you haven't put your petty differences aside enough to even feign an interest…'

'I'm sorry…by all means, tell all…' He waved the empty glass in the air fancifully. Bingley began to read from the paper.

_'The longstanding rumours of an engagement on the set of The Framed Rose were confirmed yesterday by the announcement by Miss Elizabeth Bennet's sister and agent, Jane Bennet. The young star of the film is set to marry a Mr Edward Collins. He is a relative unknown and is widely thought to be the history expert drafted in to assist in the authenticity of the film. The engagement has prompted wild speculation into the nature of the relationship as it is believed that the affair has come as a surprise even to the family of the prospective bride._

_Mr Collins is believed to be delighted with the engagement, and who can blame him? He is by all accounts not the most handsome of men, and when standing next to his fiancée, the very beautiful Elizabeth Bennet, has rather cruelly inspired such headlines as 'The Beauty and the Beast.'  
Their engagement is to be formally celebrated tonight at an engagement party to be held on the grounds of Herrington Estate, the location of the forthcoming film…'_

'You should go…' Darcy suddenly turned around and looked him directly in the eye.

'What…?' Bingley was shocked Darcy would even suggest such a thing.

But Darcy was determined. 'If you leave now, you should be there in plenty of time.One of us should go, and seeing as I'm still busy filming…'

'No…I can't go, you know that…'

'Why not…?'

Bingley was amazed he even had to ask. 'Jane will be there…and you know I can't face her alone, knowing she doesn't care for me as I do her…I'm surprised you'd even suggest such a thing. I'm afraid if I see her again, Darcy, I won't be able to help myself and I'll end up proposing…'

Darcy smiled slightly at this. 'That's exactly what I'm counting on…there's no point in both of us being miserable…' Seeing Bingley look suitably puzzled, he sighed deeply. 'Bingley, I have a confession to make…'

He turned back to the glass wishing it was full again. 'You have to know, Bingley, that I think of you as more than just a friend. You're almost like a brother to me…What I've done…I had only your best interests in mind…'

'Darcy…now you're scaring me, what's this big confession…?'

After a lengthy pause, Darcy told Bingley all, how he had known of Jane's being in London the same time as he was, and he had kept the knowledge of it to himself. And how he had intercepted all his messages to make sure he never found out about Jane's presence.

Darcy watched Bingley's expression change from shock and disbelief to contempt and he was not surprised by it. 'But I was wrong, Bingley. I have to tell you that now. I was wrong to interfere and I was certainly wrong about how Jane feels about you. You have to believe me when I tell you that I have lately come to know exactly how she feels…Bingley, she loves you, as much as you do her…'

Bingley was unsure how to react. 'You lied to me, Darcy…I can't believe you did that…'

'I know, and I'm truly sorry. It was despicable of me…' Darcy trailed off; it was clear Bingley was not listening. He approached him with a hopeful expression.

'You're sure she loves me…how do you know…are you sure…?'

Darcy smiled. 'I'm sure…just something somebody said to me; I'm more than certain of it. So, perhaps you should go to that party…?'

Bingley's expression was one of such relieved joy that it did not surprise Darcy when he tore out of the room at such a pace that Darcy was sure there was a cloud of dust kicked up behind him.

'I wholly forgive you, Darcy….' Bingley shouted back just before he was out of earshot as he raced down the corridor towards the exit.

Darcy smiled to himself quietly. No; no point in both of them being miserable.

* * *

Jane could not help but despair at the scene playing out in front of her. Mr Collins had just made the big announcement, and now both he and Lizzy were busy receiving congratulations from the multitude of well-wishers thronging forward. 

Only Jane did not press forward. She knew as clearly as she knew night from day that this was not what Lizzy wanted. She stood at the back of the grand hall and could not dispel the sad tears that crept into her eyes.

She did not notice the man who came to stand next to her until she felt his arm around her waist. Bingley! He wore such an expression on his face that Jane was certain of his question before he could even ask it.

Later, after they had slipped quietly away and Bingley had slipped a ring onto Jane's finger, he asked about the curious engagement between Lizzy and Mr Collins.

'I was sure she hadn't encouraged him. We all saw his obvious intentions as soon as he arrived on set, but Lizzy…'

Jane nodded. 'I know…it was such a shock to us as well. Do you know they have been engaged almost a month already? But I know this is not what she wants, it can't be…' Jane felt the tears coming on again despite her own happiness.

Bingley comforted her. 'What are you going to do…? Have you talked to her about it…?'

'No, I haven't had the courage yet…but I have a feeling she won't listen to me anyway…'

So what will you do..?'

'Well, if she doesn't like what I have to say, I know there's one person whose opinion she'll have to take into account…I'll call father…'

* * *

Jane was right to be anxious; Lizzy would not listen. Not wishing to usurp her sister's moment Jane had pulled her away from the crowd, and in a bid to escape it they now wandered through the Herrington maze. She had told Lizzy of her own good news: Bingley had returned and they were to be married. 

Lizzy was overjoyed. It was obvious; the twinkle on Jane's ring shone as bright as the one in her eye. But the merriment did not last long. Jane could not stay silent any longer, and after the pleasantries and simpering were done, Jane began directly.

'Lizzy what are you doing…you can't marry Mr Collins, you can't marry this man…!'

Lizzy remained remarkably calm, in spite of all her sister's impassioned pleas. 'And why not? Why shouldn't I marry the one man who has not lied to me, who has never made a fool out of me, or never made me feel so depressed and doubting of my own ability…why should I not marry this man…?'

'Because you do not love him!' Jane's reply was emphatic. 'You once told me, Lizzy, that only the deepest love would ever induce you into matrimony…I can't believe you've found that with Mr Collins…'

Lizzy laughed oddly. 'Why not? Everyone else seems to believe it…'

'That's because…' Jane pressed her arm, '…they don't know you like I do…'

'And maybe it's you who do not know me, Jane…' She quietly shrugged off Jane's arm and walked away. Jane was left stunned and silent until she became aware of her surroundings.

'Lizzy…' she called out, 'you know I don't like mazes…you know I'm not very good at them…'

'Don't worry…' Jane could only barely make out Lizzy's voice, 'I'll be sure to send a prince out to rescue you… or at least Bingley…!'

'Lizzy…!'


	14. Resignations Of The Heart

**Part 14-'Resignations of the heart…'  
**

_'There's no need to look at me like that…I know what you are thinking, what anyone would think. No doubt they would call me foolish, but I had to know…to see…'_

_Rupert watched Celia's husband with a growing curiosity. He __was a handsome man, tall, well built __and with a strength about him __that he envied; Lord Edward Sommerson, what a spectacle of a man he appeared sitting__ opposite the already weak, fast-fading __Rupert._

_He had been surprised as to who his__ guest was, even as the landlord had ushered him into the room. __Rupert failed to recognise his name at first. It was only when Lord Sommerson had stated that the lady was to be offered refreshment and rest, but on no account__ was to be allowed upstairs without his permission, that Rupert made the connection. The landed gentry standing__ in front of him, commanding and aloof, was none__ other than Celia's husband. The man for whom __he had given her up. _

_Lord Sommerson had fallen in love with Celia even whilst his own affair __with her was ongoing. He __had learnt of it __from Celia's father. The young gentleman was very much favoured by all and it was the old man's dearest wish to have his daughter so well and so happily married. Celia's father was gravely ill;__ Rupert's presence at the house during those last few months before his death had been for the purpose of painting his portrait __whilst he was still able to stand._

_Rupert used that time to assess Celia's would-be__ admirer. However __much he would have liked to, __Rupert could find no fault with him. He was pleasant, charming and wealthy; __he could keep Celia in the comfort she had been used to. What little Rupert had to offer her in terms of material wealth__ was pitiful._

_As for Sommerson__, it soon became clear to see he was utterly devoted to her. It __was decided;__ Rupert gave her up…to this man, this man he now regarded with a growing curiosity._

_'Why are you…why have you brought her here…?' Rupert gasped hoarsely._

_Sommerson stood abruptly. He __sighed and crossed over to the window. There __was nothing to see;__ the glass was so dirty and the room so dark, Sommerson might as well have been staring into oblivion._

_It was clear he was struggling with his words.__ 'I had to know, to see this man who had long captured and held the heart of my…wife…'_

_Rupert stared up at him, startled. He __saw this tall, proud elegant man shrink with sorrow and dejection, and he pitied him._

_'Yes…I know…about you and Celia. I have long known…though she always took pains to hide it.' He shook his head slightly.__ 'Celia played the dutiful wife so well. She__ was kind to me…she never spoke of you…never even mentioned your name, not once. But I knew,__ you see, and I saw…when she thought she was going about unobserved,__ I saw…when she thought no one was looking, I __saw… There__ would come over her this inexplicable sadness…this momentary remembrance, a flash, a smile in the eyes and I knew, in that moment, however brief it was…that she had been thinking of you…'_

_'You're wrong…' Rupert knew not what comforting words to offer. 'We __agreed…'_

_'You may have agreed…but you must know…no one has ever replaced you in her heart…' Sommerson appeared to choke on these words._

_Rupert was equally astounded that he could talk so candidly about the woman they clearly both loved._

_'Lord Sommerson, I do not know what to say…but again, how…why have you sought me out?__'_

_He turned away from the window to face him and smiled sadly. 'I found all your letters, the ones she had sent you…and that you had returned…I know I ought not to have pried into __her private chamber but…'_

_'You read them…?' Rupert was horrified._

_'No…do not think it is because I have too __much gentlemanly delicacy…it is only because I could not bring myself to…but I learned your name from them…and then I could not rest until I saw my… rival…'_

_Rupert laughed slightly.__ 'I'm hardly that…I haven't seen her in over twenty years…'_

_'Well, __she's here, I brought her with me…but I confess I did not think we would find you… like this…'_

_'Dying…' Rupert spoke the word Sommerson was having trouble saying. 'Why __would you bring her…if you consider me a rival...?'_

_'I have no worries on that head…I know Celia, she will not leave me…she will not abandon our children… You__ must not think this was some effort on my part to be deliberately cruel…to either of you…'_

_'Then how else do you expect me to interpret it…?'_

_Sommerson smiled sadly at him.__ 'I know what it is to love Celia…I can only imagine what it is to be loved by her…I am not so hard-hearted __as to deny that to a man…especially one who__ is dying…'  
_

Darcy had never thought he'd find the scene so difficult. The part where Celia's husband first met Rupert and their lengthy conversation ought to have been simple enough…but it was too much…too much like losing Lizzy to that insipid Mr Collins.

He had not until now realised the effect she had over him. Since reading of the engagement in the papers, his work, his entire life had been one long blur. He couldn't concentrate; even now they were all looking at him for the next line.

'I'm sorry…' He clambered out of the chair and scrambled to his feet. 'I'm sorry, Harry…I can't do this…just give me a few minutes…'

'A few minutes…?' Harry called out after him, 'We haven't got a few minutes…Darcy, what's the matter with you? We could actually have this thing finished on time and on budget!'

'I'm sorry…' Darcy repeated. He was already halfway out of the studio.

'Do you have any idea what Marcie will do to me…?' Harry called out in desperation.

* * *

Robert was worried about him; he hadn't seen Darcy this despondent in quite a while. And he was looking ill. Darcy had never been one to take too much care of his own health, although he was far too worried about Georgiana's, but Robert was certain it hadn't taken make-up all that long to ensure Darcy was looking as sickly as Rupert was supposed to. 

He watched his cousin clasp an unopened bottle of scotch. 'I think this would be a better idea…' He set a cup of coffee in front of him and sat down next to him.

'You're right…' Darcy handed the bottle to Robert, who took it gratefully. 'I suppose Harry is pulling his hair out…'

Robert scoffed, 'What little there is of it…? Don't worry about him; he'll get over it…'

Darcy smiled, thankful for his reassurances. 'I'm letting you all down, Robert. I just can't…I don't know what it is…'

'I know what it is.' Robert looked at him significantly. 'It's obvious…'

'It is…?' Darcy waited on tenterhooks, certain Lizzy's utter rejection of him was out. He braced himself for the ridicule he was sure was to come.

'Of course…You need a woman. You're lonely!' Darcy stared at him. Robert carried on, seemingly oblivious. 'I don't understand. You're a film star…good looking enough…women should be throwing themselves at you…'

Darcy laughed at his cousin's rather obvious efforts at lifting his spirits. He shook his head slightly. 'I don't want women to throw themselves at me…'

'No…you just want _her_…' Robert was all serious again; he did know. 'Oh, come on, Darcy…how long did you think you could hide it from me? I'm your cousin, remember? There isn't a lot about you I don't know…'

Robert watched Darcy's sad face as the latter nursed the coffee in his hands. 'So you asked…?'

'And she refused…yes…but she was right to. The things I said to her…they're unforgivable…'

'Well, I'll be the first to admit you have a way with words…just not the way people like in general. So you're just going to give up on her?'

'She was never really mine to give up in the first place.You've read the papers. Now there's no chance at all…'

Robert rose to leave. 'Really? So you shouldn't be having such a hard time letting her go, then, surely….?'

Darcy wondered at those passing words. Robert was right. Surely if he had given up on ever making Lizzy love him, it would have been easier than this to move on?

* * *

It is a terrible thing to be plagued with, a crippling fear of life. Not just of life but of living, and knowing that the future, of which you were once so certain, is no longer the clear, shimmering lake you imagined. 

It was horrifying that Lizzy could feel this way now. Her engagement to Mr Collins was to have made things more definite…and instead comprehension was as elusive and murky as ever. Her life after saying yes to him appeared to have gotten away from her; she was no longer in control. Events moved at such a pace that she struggled to keep up. With the stories in the papers, there was nothing else for it…she was committed now, she had promised…but did she love him….?

Of course not, but he was not a vicious man, and he wasn't deceitful like Wickham or hurtful like Darcy…he was distinctly, and remarkably, average. He was kind and, unworthy as she thought herself, worshipped the very ground she walked on. So, Mr Collins it was to be then…if only to save herself, to save her heart…from any more pain.


	15. The Painful Truth And Meeting Again

** Part 15-'the painful truth and meeting again…'  
**

Filming for 'The Framed Rose' was finally over. After a tumultuous year for almost all concerned, the film was complete and merely awaited editing and continuity checks. Within a few months it would hit the big screen and would underwrite the fate of all concerned.

Darcy left for home: Pemberley. He had resigned himself to the fact that Lizzy would never be his. Robert's words had pushed him into action; he gave up the drink as well as the hope of winning her heart. And though it would prove difficult at first, he was determined it could be the only way to preserve his sanity.

Lizzy, now an engaged woman, had nothing more to do but take herself and her fiancé back to Longbourn, where she awaited all the distraction and inanity the family home could provide. Her mother did not disappoint. Her exclamations and delight at having two daughters on the verge of marriage could not be talked of quickly or nauseatingly enough, and Mrs Bennet could only be matched by Mr Collins in profusion of emotion and words.

All Jane's hopes of saving Lizzy from the mistake she was making rested with their father. But for the first time in her life, she found herself disappointed in Mr Bennet. She thought he would set about talking her out of it as soon as he arrived, but he had stayed inexplicably quiet. It had been almost a month, and still Jane could not discern from him that he had spoken to Lizzy on the subject at all.

Mr Collins had chosen to stay at a nearby hotel, Lucas Lodge, but they still suffered his company during almost every meal, and still Mr Bennet did not broach the subject with either of them. He knew Lizzy well enough; he was certain that the farther he pushed her into breaking off the engagement, the more determined she would be to go through with it. Not because she was being deliberately stubborn or spiteful, but simply because she had convinced herself she was doing the right thing. Mr Bennet decided to wait it out, to see how far she was willing to go with this. There was no question that he would speak… it was merely a question of when.

As for Lizzy herself, she was not blind; she knew her father's objections barely rested on his lips, but there was no going back now. Every paper had announced the engagement. To break it off now would be cruel. Besides, through some inane reasoning, she reckoned the less she thought of the impending marriage, the further away the event would be, almost as if it wouldn't take place at all.

As long as she allowed neither reason nor feeling to enter the equation or stand in the way, Mr Collins seemed the perfectly rational choice. She was certain, something she could not say of the other men in her life, that he could never shock or surprise her, thus she deemed her heart as safe as it was untouched. She had no inclination to be hurt again.

* * *

Mr Collins turned up the same time as usual every morning to spend the day with his fiancée. Jane, as usual, would always get up to leave; the spectacle turned her stomach. Relations between the sisters, who had at one time been so close, were fractious to say the least. Jane could not forgive Lizzy the impetuousness and sheer obstinacy of her decision. 

Mr Collins was that morning even dizzier and more excited than usual. He set about explaining the reasons for it to Lizzy and Mr Bennet. Attentive and generous as ever, he had organised a holiday for both himself and Lizzy touring the grandest and most famous theatres across England. Knowing Mr Bennet's love of the theatre, he extended the invite to him as well.

Mr Bennet took it up readily. The sacrifice of spending time with Mr Collins was a small one compared to the prospect of seeing some of the most famous buildings and theatres in the world.

Mr Collins was delighted; even Lizzy looked animated at the idea. 'Yes, we'll take in all the best ones, and no doubt we'll make a stop at Pemberley Theatre.'

Lizzy suddenly gasped and stared at Mr Collins. 'No…' she shook her head emphatically, '….no, we couldn't possibly'

Mr Collins merely smiled and failed to see the obvious distress Lizzy was in. Mr Bennet saw and noted it with some curiosity.

'Well, of course we must. It would hardly be a worthwhile tour if we didn't take in one of the biggest and grandest…'

Lizzy still sought to protest. 'But surely there'll be theatres enough elsewhere for us to see…' She struggled to come up with any viable excuse.

Mr Collins laughed. 'Yes, of course there will be, my dear…' He was using that same patronising tone Lizzy had come to loathe. 'But wouldn't you like to see the place where your co-star grew up and learnt his trade? And your father has no objections. Besides, I should like to see Darcy again…if only to tell him how things have changed…' In other words, to crow over him about his engagement.

'Yes, I should like to see Pemberley Theatre,' Mr Bennet offered. 'As for meeting the infamous Mr Darcy, well, I don't know about that. I had heard he is unlikely to be there, as he rarely stays at the place before the new season begins…'

Lizzy seemed more comfortable about the idea. 'So I won't have to see him again…perhaps I may steal a glance at Pemberley Theatre after all…' she thought.

It was done, all the arrangements were soon made with Mr Collins' characteristic efficiency, and the three of them were all set to go within a week.

* * *

Though Mr Bennet had not yet deemed it wise to broach the subject of the engagement with his daughter, no such scruples held where his wife was concerned. He had watched with growing unease and maddening frustration her continuation of encouragement to Mr Collins, and the level of joy and happiness she portrayed at the impending union would be sickening were it not so clearly false.

He waited until they were alone one morning in the living room and unleashed his anger at her. 'Why are you doing this? You must know she's not happy, but you're making such a point that her marrying this man is a good thing…'

Mrs Bennet could not see the objection. Lizzy was by no means her favourite daughter; she thought it a good enough match for her. 'And why not? He's comfortably well off financially…he'll take care of her…'

Mr Bennet shook his head sternly. 'She doesn't love him.'

He was amazed at her response: she laughed cruelly. 'And what has _that _got to do with anything? We've managed very well without it…'

For a moment all Mr Bennet could do was to stare incoherently at her, but he gradually came to realise she was right, and he wondered how long it had been. When had love gone and been replaced with indifference…? Months…years…? Even the thought of it did not sadden him as it ought to have.

He sighed deeply, determined Lizzy would not suffer the same fate. 'I know Lizzy, she will never be happy, not unless she looks up to the man she intends to marry, respects him…looks up to him as an equal and Mr Collins is not equal to Lizzy.'

But Mrs Bennet was adamant. 'She's agreed to marry him hasn't she? It must be what she wants...'

Mr Bennet could not believe what he was hearing. 'How can you be so cold, to your own child…I would never have thought it possible…'

Mrs Bennet suddenly exploded with rage, 'Cold…?' How dare you…you have no right to berate me on the treatment of our children! I practically raised them all by myself. I gave up my career to look after them, but you…you just carried on, posing and swaggering over the tread boards…'

'I shouldn't really be surprised at how resentful you're being, God knows I've had to listen to it long enough, but now to punish Lizzy for it…'

'Nobody's forcing her to marry him…'

Mr Bennet scoffed, 'With all your subtlety, it'd be kinder to put a gun to the poor girl's head…' And with that he stormed out, banging the door as he went.

Lizzy, standing quietly in the shadows of the stairs, heard it all.

* * *

Lizzy watched her bags being carried to the rooms by the porter until they were out of sight. Then she stood quietly by the front desk and observed with growing envy a clearly newly married couple sitting in the restaurant. They were holding hands and sharing a dessert. 

The scene made her think of her own impending nuptials; Mr Collins was by no means the most comfortable of men when it came to intimacy. She cringed inwardly at the conversation she had initiated with him the night before they set off on their travels. She had managed, after some hesitation, to bring up the awkward topic and to persuade him that their level of intimacy would be taken no further, that they ought to wait until they were married before sleeping together…the event would then prove all the more special. Thankfully for her, Mr Collins was as afraid of 'intimacy' as she was, certainly not what the sentiments of a recently engaged couple deeply in love ought to have been.

Pemberley Theatre was no more than a couple of miles from the hotel; they were to visit the place that very afternoon.

* * *

Lizzy had to catch her breath, and not for the first time. Standing on the steps, she thought she had never seen a building as beautiful as Pemberley Theatre. The steps were numerous and at the head were flanked by angels. Or muses, Lizzy couldn't be sure; they carried harps and lutes and seemed to appear as if they were flying. 

But nothing could tear Lizzy's eyes away from the face of the building itself. It was unique, an octagonal shape, with huge Corinthian columns, heavy old doors and leaded windows that seemed to reach up to the roof.

'To be mistress of Pemberley would be truly something,' she mused. 'How father must be enjoying this, and to think if I had accepted Darcy I might have been inviting him as a guest, rather than being one myself. But no…' she caught herself, 'Father would have been lost to me, along with the rest of the family. Darcy would never have tolerated their presence here…' She was glad for the thought; it saved her from something like regret.

Whatever her impressions of the outside were, nothing could prepare her for the delights waiting inside. A lengthy entrance hall opened up into a magnificent foyer: marble-tiled floors, deep red damask hangings, and a magnificent chandelier all to be found exactly as they would have been when the place was built. Everything appeared in refined taste, nothing was too gaudy or pretentious; every hanging, every painting, the smallest candle, all were placed strategically to extract from the visitor exactly the reaction Lizzy was having as she surveyed it all….breathless amazement.

The staircase inside was as lengthy and grand as the one outside, only all the more so with its deep red carpets and bronze gilding. It separated at the top, wound its way along opposite sides of the room and lengthened into corridors, all along which were hung huge, lifelike portraits of what Lizzy guessed were various family members. Each corridor separated into different rooms, corridors and rooms weaving into each other as a magical labyrinth.

It was a good thing they had a guide, Mrs Reynolds, a name with which Lizzy was already familiar. She was a good-natured woman, stout, red-faced and smiling. She guided them along the corridors, pointing out pictures and objects of interest.

But Lizzy soon had enough of portraits of people she did not know, or in whom she could not feign an interest, and quietly turning back, made her way down the grand staircase again, leaving her father and Mr Collins in the capable hands of Mrs Reynolds. She came down slowly and stopped in the centre. There, hung on the wall, was a magnificent portrait of a handsome but stern-looking man. The script underneath declared it to be Mr Percival Darcy. A bust of the same man was situated directly below it, on an eerily suited stone pedestal.

So this is Darcy's father, she thought, smiling sadly. 'Well, I congratulate you, sir. What a fine job you've done in raising your sons, giving one all the goodness and the other merely the appearance of it…' she murmured under her breath.

She ran her fingers over the bust and, looking up at the picture, noted the hardness about the features. It was plain to see in the eyes and the hard line of the jaw that this Mr Darcy had something of the tyrant about him, a trait she had to admit she was glad to have seen absent in the son.

It was whilst she was studying the works of art so closely that Lizzy first heard the music. It was very faint, barely a few notes carried on the cool air. But it wrought its magic on Lizzy and it seemed she almost floated down the steps towards the sound. She stopped in the middle of the foyer and listened intently. She recognised it; even from the few notes she could barely hear she knew what it was: her favourite piece, Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'. She had played it as Celia when they were filming, and even when they hadn't been, she would sit at the pianoforte and play it all the same.

She walked towards where she thought the sound was coming from and, passing through yet another corridor, she came across a door. Pushing it open, she realised she had wandered into the side entrance of the main auditorium. The music was clear now; it was coming from the front, the darkened stage.

Lizzy approached it tentatively. She could not make out anything and still the music played. She was startled by a voice behind her.

'Oh hello, are you lost…?' Turning to look, Lizzy saw a beautiful young woman smiling kindly at her. She had the bluest eyes Lizzy had ever seen, a wonderful smile and long, long hair of golden hue.

Lizzy smiled readily in return. 'Yes, I suppose I must be…I'm sorry. I hope I'm not intruding…?'

'No, not at all…' The young woman stared at her with innocent curiosity. But Lizzy could not shake the effect the music was having on her senses; it seemed to be casting a spell on her.

'I'm sorry…but could you tell me who is playing that music? It's beautiful and haunting…' Lizzy looked intently at her.

She smiled and seemed to call out to the shadows, 'You must emerge from the shadows, brother, or you will quite unnerve this young woman and have her thinking we have our very own 'Phantom of the Opera'…'

Brother? The music stopped and Lizzy's heart skipped a beat as she heard someone approaching the front of the stage and emerging from the dark. She recognised the face instantly and felt her own blush.

'_Mr Darcy…!'  
_


	16. The Long Road Back

**Part 16- 'The long road back…'  
**

Lizzy absolutely started at the sight of Darcy standing up there on the stage looking down at her. He seemed equally amazed but recovered faster than she did. Smiling, he climbed down and approached her slowly.

'You must excuse my sister, Miss Bennet. She has acquired that characteristic often found in those of us who have lived too long in the theatre…she has even begun to talk in theatrics.'

His sister laughed, a rippling, clear sound that could not help but make those around her smile. 'Yes, by all means, forgive me…that I have not inherited that trait of my brother's that leaves him wholly unable to judge a conversation. I would rather talk in theatrics, as he puts it, than suffer as he does…for I assure you he makes the mistake of speaking when he ought to stay silent and staying silent when he ought to speak…'

Lizzy could not help but laugh at the way she had turned her brother's words around. 'Georgiana…' Darcy quietly remonstrated with her.

'Well, it's true, and it has not served you well in the past.'

Darcy was not actually listening; he could not help but stare at Lizzy, unable to fathom what wondrous series of events could have brought her here. Georgiana had to repeat his name before he paid attention.

She laughed at his obvious absent-mindedness and the strange way both Lizzy and Darcy stared at each other. 'Well, since you already appear to be so well acquainted, would you care to introduce me, Darcy…?'

'What…? Yes, of course…Miss Bennet, this is my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy…Georgiana, this is…Miss Elizabeth Bennet…' Her name tripped off his lips as fervent and reverent as a prayer.

It was at that point that they were interrupted, and through the same door Lizzy had stumbled into, in came pouring Mr Collins and Mr Bennet.

Mr Collins, on perceiving Darcy, grinned rather stupidly and called out to Lizzy, 'Well, there you are, my dear…Lizzy, we had quite despaired we'd lost you…' Mr Collins was the type of man who would forever be awkward with public displays of affection, and was unsure how to attend to his fiancée; he merely stood next to her awkwardly and smirked at Darcy. 'Well, Darcy…what a thing to be meeting you again…' He slipped an arm around Lizzy's waist, almost as if making a point.

Now it was Lizzy's turn to make the introductions. 'Mr Darcy…Miss Darcy, this is my father…and Mr Collins…my fiancé.'

She struggled with the word, all the while watching Darcy for his reaction. He could not be surprised, she knew he must have read the papers but…, but what had she been expecting? She thought she saw a slight flinch but could not be sure… she could not deny her disappointment that there was nothing more.

'Father, this is Mr Darcy and his sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy…' Mr Bennet was no less curious to make the acquaintance of a man of whom he had heard so much. He stepped forward and offered his hand warmly. 'Mr Darcy…Miss Darcy, I am happy to make your acquaintance at last…and in such pleasant surroundings.' He noticed the way Darcy had eyes only for his daughter. Suddenly Lizzy's acceptance of Mr Collins' proposal took on a whole new perspective.

Darcy smiled at him. 'Yes…I suppose you must feel quite at home…in the theatre, I mean.'

'Yes…I have played in many parts and many places but,' Mr Bennet cast an admiring glance about the room, 'nothing as grand as this…'

'Well, we shall have to do something about that…' Darcy's words seemed like a promise and Mr Bennet was content to like him already. Lizzy was amazed at the change in him; surely barely a few months ago the likes of Mr Bennet would have been beneath his notice. But no, here they all were, and Lizzy, for one, was not sorry for it.

'Oh, of course…Miss Elizabeth Bennet!' Georgiana suddenly exclaimed, startling everybody. She was filled with youthful exuberance. 'I have heard Darcy often talk of his beautiful co-star but how stupid of me, I never thought to make the connection. We have met, Miss Bennet…'

Lizzy was baffled, 'I'm sorry I don't have the pleasure of recalling…'

Georgiana beamed at her. 'Darcy, you ought to have been more forthcoming in your description…I say we have met, Miss Bennet; in truth we have almost met. I was quite taken by the critics' review of your performance in 'Stars Above'; your portrayal of the tragic Alison Harding was truly remarkable. I loved every minute of it…in fact, I came to see it three times…only I was too shy to talk to you after, I did get as far as backstage, but no further…'

Darcy laughed at her enthusiasm. 'It's true, I had to drive her…three times!'

'Yes, though you never came inside…however much I tried to persuade you…'

'No…though I have long wished I had…' Darcy looked directly at Lizzy as he spoke. She blushed and smiled quietly.

Mr Collins felt he had been silent for far too long. 'It seems we have found another fan of yours, Lizzy. Miss Darcy is almost as fervent in her admiration of you as another young gentleman once was…'

Lizzy stiffened in dread, he was on the verge of naming Wickham, and she knew not how to stop him.

'Oh yes…of course, Wickham, wasn't it? George Wickham…?'

Darcy's reaction pained her. He had gone pale and he gritted his teeth. His expression as he looked at his sister was one filled with pitiful sorrow. As for Georgiana, the poor girl had gone as white as a sheet and was visibly shaking; no doubt she had thought she would never have to hear that name again.

Lizzy felt for them both acutely. Miss Darcy required a rescue, and she would provide it. 'Miss Darcy…I have long heard of Pemberley Theatre's impressive rows and stage, but there were stories of hidden doors and passages, not surprising in a building as old and wondrous as this. I find it all highly intriguing, and I wonder, would you be so kind as to show them to me?' She smiled warmly at her. 'I cannot think of a better guide for the task…'

Lizzy's smiles and words appeared to have an effect; some of Georgiana's colour returned. She took Lizzy's arm gratefully and led the way. Lizzy threw back a glance at Darcy and smiled reassuringly.

Darcy was certainly grateful for the kindness she was showing to his sister. He still could not believe she was here. There was so much he had wanted to tell her. His heart was overflowing, ready to burst. From the moment he had seen her again, all the old feelings had returned, the feelings he thought he had long buried. He had taken Robert's words to heart and resolved to let Miss Bennet go, but it was easier said than done.

Now seeing her again, he knew it was impossible. He had been ready to confess all to her the instant his eyes had rested on her face but…Collins had turned up. Her fiancé… Darcy hardened his heart once more. He would not risk it; whilst she still allowed that man to slip an arm about her waist. He would not risk heartache and rejection again, not till he was sure…if or what she felt about him. He had learnt his lesson; he was not willing to expose his own feelings, not whilst she still guarded hers.

Mr Bennet saw it all. He watched Darcy looking after Lizzy with such longing and passion that he was certain _this _ was the man Lizzy ought to be marrying. Maybe now was the time to speak to her about this prior engagement; next to Mr Darcy, Collins would never do.

* * *

Georgiana liked Miss Bennet very much and with all her youthful enthusiasm made sure her brother knew it. He seemed equally pleased and was more than happy to second his sister's request that Lizzy, her father and Mr Collins join them for dinner the next evening. 

Mr Bennet and Lizzy accepted the invitation readily, but for poor Mr Collins it was not to be. He was called away to the set of a new film he had begun working on. The engagement had bolstered his reputation somewhat; as a history expert he was very much in demand.

Lizzy could not pretend she was sorry for his absence. She sighed as she looked in the mirror in her room. She wore the bottle-green dress, the same one she had worn to the disastrous charity ball. She could not help but smile at how differently she felt about Darcy now. Closing her eyes, she felt herself in his arms again, dancing slowly…the swaying, her cheek next to his and the shallow breathing. Lizzy shook her head and ordered herself to snap out of it. She was engaged already, to Mr Collins. Now there was a sobering thought.

* * *

Seated opposite Darcy in the grand private rooms above the theatre, Lizzy found she was gladder than ever to be spending time with just Darcy and his sister. Along with her father, the company was exactly all the mix of intellectualism, wit and fine flowing wine that she could ever wish for. Her eyes were continually drawn to Darcy's. She loved watching him. Every time he smiled and laughed his eyes lit up and she saw him more animated than she had ever seen him before, even during their year of filming together. 

Mr Bennet and Darcy talked as rapidly as old friends and Lizzy was happy to see them get along so well. Her father rarely liked anyone and tolerated people even less often, but with Darcy it seemed a pleasure rather than mere acceptance.

Georgiana Darcy was less talkative than her brother. Lizzy could easily see why some may have thought her haughty and reserved; a young girl of barely eighteen, it was not that she didn't want to talk; it was purely because she was shy and rather than take the initiative in a conversation allowed others to dictate it, only offering opinions when there was least danger of them being heard.

Darcy suggested they watch a rehearsal taking place. Everyone agreed, and the party of four soon found themselves seated on the front row eagerly looking up at the stage. Mr Bennet contrived it so that Lizzy and Darcy would end up sitting next to each other; they both unknowingly fell into his well-intentioned trap. Each deemed it would be offensive to move now and chose instead to find a way to deal with the proximity to the other. But the antics of the performers on stage soon had all their attention, and if they could not forget, they did eventually become more comfortable.

Lizzy placed her hand on the arm rest between them and, perhaps inevitably so, Darcy reached for it only a few minutes later. His hand innocently found hers; they were both surprised by the touch. Darcy looked at her closely, seeking something in her eyes; he certainly didn't think her revolted by his touch and he was in no hurry to relinquish her hand just yet. She smiled slightly at him and allowed her fingers to interlace with his before slowly removing her hand.

The rehearsal was over and it drew their attention away from their lingering moment, charged with electricity. Lizzy stood and clapped enthusiastically, glad to be able to escape Darcy's intense gaze. It was having an effect on her she seemed unable to control.

Lizzy suddenly felt her hand seized by another; Georgiana had taken a hold of her and was now trying to persuade her to play the piano and sing for them. She had to practically drag Lizzy through the orchestra's area and up the stairs. The cast whose rehearsal they had been watching all took up positions around the stage, eagerly awaiting a performance.

'Georgiana, please, I assure you I am not very good at either…'

'Nonsense…' Georgiana laughed at her modesty. 'My brother has spoken of your playing the piano once or twice on set and he has told me that he has never heard anything that gave him more pleasure.'

It was Lizzy's turn to laugh. She stopped and looked back at Darcy who, between talking to her father, shouted out encouragements. 'Well, then I am afraid your brother is prone to exaggeration, he means mischief, no doubt…'

Georgiana stopped likewise and, turning to look at her, spoke in all seriousness, 'Miss Bennet, you will never find a greater advocate of the truth than my brother.' She smiled widely. 'Therefore, if he states that you can play, then you can play…'

She had succeeded in getting Lizzy to the instrument, and placing her firmly in the seat she rifled through the numerous music sheets conveniently lying on top of the piano.

'Now if you insist on refusing to sing, Miss Bennet, you must at least play…'

Lizzy relented, 'Very well, but only if you sing…' She saw Georgiana freeze. 'That is my only condition, I will play, but only if you sing. You see, I have heard something of your talents as well…'

Georgiana managed a weak 'Alright….' Lizzy flashed a brilliant smile at her. 'What would you have me play?'

'Let's start with something classic and traditional…how about Mimi's aria from 'La Boheme?''

The entire hall fell silent as Lizzy began to stroke the keys. The choice of music was perfect. Georgiana hit every note precisely and her performance was so touching that Lizzy, looking around, doubted there was anybody left unaffected by it.

When she finished, rapturous applause greeted her; everyone was on their feet clapping and shouting enthusiastically. Lizzy clapped along with them, pleased for the shy but happy Georgiana, who smiled and acknowledged the praise with a characteristic blush.

She bounded over to Lizzy. 'Now for something more fun…' Georgiana produced a sheet of music and handed it to her. Lizzy smilingly thought it a little suspicious that these pieces of music should be so conveniently at hand, almost as if Georgiana had planned it all…but she found she would not mind if the young woman had acted at all a little deviously; it was another trait that she found endearing.

Lizzy, seeing the title, looked up at Georgiana, puzzled. 'This, are you sure…?'

'Yes,' Georgiana nodded emphatically. 'It's a fun piece and one of my brother's favourites…'

Lizzy shook her head and laughed. 'Well, I can readily believe that, I've given up being surprised about anything your brother does or says…'

Lizzy began to play. The piece was fun and lively and soon the whole room was on its feet dancing and singing away. Lizzy laughed whole heartedly at the merriment of it all. She was pleasantly surprised to find Darcy come over and sit next to her at the piano.

She smiled sweetly at him. Looking over to Georgiana who had everyone joining in, she said to Darcy, 'I thought your sister was shy…!'

'She was…she is…' he stammered smilingly, 'I've never seen her this happy or lively or talkative with anyone. She must really like you…'

'Good…I'm glad. I like her, too…'

Darcy nodded confidently. 'I knew you would…'

* * *

The evening had turned into an impromptu party and had stretched long into the night. Mr Bennet found it all too much and took his leave early. He left Lizzy smiling and laughing away with Darcy and the rest of the cast. It warmed his heart seeing her happier than she had been in a long time, and he knew exactly what, or rather who, was the cause for it. That conversation regarding a prior engagement would have to happen soon. 

Darcy offered to take Lizzy back to her hotel, and she readily accepted. She did not think it objectionable that he walked her to her room; they were friends, what could be more natural. The night clerk looked up briefly from behind his desk as their footsteps echoed past but soon returned to his work. He had seen enough celebrities walking up to hotel rooms together that to see this was nothing extraordinary; perhaps the only unusual aspect of Mr Darcy and Miss Bennet being together was their very pointed and very public dislike of each other. Still, he shrugged, the film industry was a strange business and actors were a strange lot. Either way, in his profession it paid to be the very soul of discretion.

Lizzy was very conscious of Darcy's presence only a few feet behind her in the lift. She chuckled quietly and shook her head. Darcy naturally inquired as to her mirth. She turned to look at him.

'Who would have thought that the great Darcy's, the famous actor's favourite piece of music is 'I'm a Believer'…' She laughed again.

He smiled in return. 'What…? The Monkees were a great band, and it's a fun song…and apt.' He spoke the last word low.

'You're right, it is a fun song. You have great taste in music, I'm sorry…' Still, she couldn't help but burst out laughing again.

The lift stopped and they stepped out and walked slowly to her room. Lizzy still had so much to say to him. Now that she realised just how much she enjoyed his company, she was sorry to see the evening end.

They stopped at her door and she turned to him suddenly. 'I must admit I'm surprised…'

'About what…?' He equally had no desire to let her go just yet.

'I thought you'd be angry about seeing me here, that you'd think it a dreadful intrusion. I have to admit I never thought you'd want to give me the time of day again, or that at best you'd be anything more than indifferent, but…you've been all attention…'

Darcy sighed deeply; given his behaviour this past year, he could hardly have been surprised by her words. 'Angry? No, I could never be that, I could never be anything but glad to see you. And seeing you _here _…is something really special…'

Lizzy smiled and he thought his heart would break. 'Really..?'

To hell with caution, he thought. 'Yes, Lizzy, the way I feel about you…you must know that hasn't…that could never change…'

Lizzy dropped her eyes nervously; a strand of loose hair fell about her face. He reached out tentatively and carefully tucked it behind her ear. His touch both thrilled and frightened her; she looked up to meet his gaze. As he leaned in to kiss her, Lizzy hesitated at first but gave in.

The kiss was passionate and intense. She reached up and dug her hands into his shoulders. He tousled her hair with one hand and the other he placed in the small of her back, pulling her yet closer. She met his yearning with a desire of her own and for a moment the whole world seemed to slip away and it was only the two of them standing on the edge.

Lizzy eventually broke the kiss off, breathless. Their foreheads touched. She shook her head despairingly. 'I can't do this…this is wrong…'

'Why…?' Darcy desperately pulled her close, unwilling to relinquish her lips and her body.

'You know why, I'm engaged…Mr Collins…' He stopped her with a gentle kiss.

'Don't…' he murmured. Don't spoil the moment…don't take away what he had been dreaming about for so long.

Lizzy resisted the urge to wrap herself around him again. 'I'm sorry…' She kissed him lightly on the corner of the mouth as a goodbye. And removing his arm from her back, she pushed him away gently and opened the door to her room without looking back.


	17. A Bump In The Road

_A/N: So last update in a while, have to disappear for a couple of months, hit my profile for further details. And sorry but I'm going to leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger, enjoy! _**  
**

**Part 17- 'A bump in the road…'  
**

Lizzy sighed deeply as she closed the room to her door and leaned heavily against it. She thought she could hear Darcy still outside and it took every ounce of restraint to resist the temptation of opening the door, throwing herself in his arms again and bringing him back into the room.

She was glad she did resist; it would have proved highly embarrassing, for as soon as Lizzy reached for the light switch and her eyes became adjusted, she gasped in surprise at the sight of her father who had been sitting quietly in the dark on her bed.

'Dad…what are you doing here…?' she asked him. She set about removing her jewellery and makeup.

Mr Bennet wondered at her alacrity and her flustered nature; she was still deep red. 'Quite a night, wasn't it? I suppose I don't have to ask if you enjoyed it, seeing as you're home quite late…' He watched the corners of her mouth upturn into a smile.

'Yes…it is late, isn't it? I hadn't realised…Mr Darcy was kind enough to see me home.'

He believed he saw much to interpret in her expressions and enough to justify enquiry. 'Our host sure knows how to throw a party, even an impromptu one. I was surprised, pleasantly so…I have to admit, Lizzy, from all that I had read and heard about him, I'd been expecting quite a different sort of man'

A flash of anger passed over her face, and she suddenly became protective of Darcy. 'Well, you won't have been the first person to be wrong about him…'

Mr Bennet watched her carefully and decided the time had finally come to have it out with her. 'Lizzy…you know I've stayed silent for too long on this point…I know little of what has passed between you and Mr Darcy apart from what Jane has told me.'

'Jane…' Lizzy nodded knowingly, 'yes, of course, Jane…I would tell her she is becoming a little too much like mother with all her interfering, but I think that would be too cruel.'

'She means well, Lizzy,' Mr Bennet emphasised. 'As I said, I know little of what has passed, but marrying Mr Collins is not the way to mend a broken heart…'

His words caught Lizzy completely off guard. 'A broken heart? And what would you know of it…?'

Mr Bennet was amazed at the growing anger in her voice. She seemed to be choking on the words; certainly there were tears in her eyes.

'I had to make the biggest decision of my life a few months ago…and you weren't here. I needed you more than ever, Dad, and you weren't here.' She was hastily brushing away tears. 'This is the most time we've spent together, the most I've seen you in over a year…and instead of…'

'Lizzy…' Mr Bennet stood up and, taking both her hands in his, tried to console her. She snatched them away.

'You're posing all these questions…this confusion…' She began to rub her temples furiously.

Mr Bennet took her hands again. 'It's simple, Lizzy…you don't love Mr Collins.'

She looked up with tear-stained eyes. 'I could learn to…' she replied weakly.

He squeezed her hands tightly. 'You shouldn't have to…Mr Collins is not the man for you, he hasn't got the same passion or soul, but Darcy…Lizzy, I've seen the way he looks at you…'

Lizzy threw her arms about her father. 'Please, Dad, stop. It's too late…I've made my decision.'

Mr Bennet sighed deeply and held her close. 'Then what do you want from me, Lizzy…' he asked softly, '…you must know I could never give you my blessing.'

'No…I know...' She brushed her lips lightly against his cheek and smiled. 'Could you at least give me your support?'

He looked her squarely in the eye. 'You know you will always have that…'

This time the tears came in floods. She hugged her father fiercely once more. 'Life isn't like one of your plays, Dad…we can't go back and hope to give a better performance second time round, however much we wish to…'

He held her at arm's length. 'Lizzy…'

She would not let him speak. 'Support, Dad, remember…?' She seemed to pause and reflect. 'Rupert was right; there are some regrets we just have to learn to live with…'

Mr Bennet, taking her firmly by the arms, shook her. 'No…!' She was shocked.

'No…Lizzy, this is not a regret you will learn to live with. I will not allow it…' He spoke with firmness and an authority Lizzy had never heard from him before. She could only stare open-mouthed.

'What are you afraid of? All you have to do…' he jabbed a finger to his chest, indicating the heart, 'all you have to do is look here…then you'll find that the right decision is waiting for you…and it isn't all that hard to make.'

He hugged her again quickly before leaving the room altogether. Lizzy was left drained. She collapsed, exhausted, onto her bed and tried to make sense of her father's words. The right decision…was waiting for her…

* * *

The world always comes rushing in, no matter what you do, however many pains you take. Whatever little comfortable cocoon you build for yourself, all the safety nets you draw up, the world always comes rushing in to tear it apart and let in the blinding light before you are ready. 

The world came rushing in for Lizzy. Fate determined that when she woke up that morning the decision that her father had promised her was not that hard to make, had already been made for her.

A letter awaited her with the coffee that room service had brought in. It sat on the silver tray neatly propped against the cup. She eyed it curiously. It didn't have the address of the hotel on it or a postmark to determine where it had it come from. She wondered if it might be from Darcy, and half-smiling she opened it with impatient fingers. The world always comes rushing in….

* * *

Darcy stalked across that lobby floor as a man possessed. In a way, he was. Possessed with the idea of finally having everything he could ever want: Elizabeth Bennet. That kiss last night, he was sure there was something there, she felt it too…he knew she did. He was going up to her room, and he was going to tell her exactly how he felt. He was going to make sure she told him how she now felt about him and damn it if they didn't make love in that room this very morning. And damn it if she didn't enjoy it as much as he would. 

The night clerk was just leaving as Darcy passed him, and if he thought he looked rough due to a night shift, Darcy looked infinitely worse, even though he was wearing a peculiar smile.

He knocked purposefully on her door. It was ridiculously early and he had half-expected to see Lizzy still in her dressing gown, but to his surprise she was fully dressed almost as if she were ready to go. But it was the look on her face that drew his attention and tugged at his heart. Her eyes were rimmed red and tear-stained. 'Are you alright…?' His voice bespoke the alarm he felt at seeing her so affected.

'No…' she let out in a strangled sob. Before Darcy could ask her what was wrong she hurried off to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She left him standing in the doorway. He couldn't very well leave her, considering how upset she was, so he came into the room and closed the door behind him.

He stood looking around the room, hoping for some clue to her distress. He soon spied the letter lying on the table. Picking it up, he looked anxiously towards the bathroom door, hoping Lizzy would emerge and tell him all herself, but she didn't.

He began to read, his eyes growing more wide and disbelieving at every word.

_Miss Bennet,_

_I suppose you're surprised to be hearing from me again? You shouldn't be.__ I warned you that you were making a mistake in getting Harry to edit me from the film; you see, __I was depending on that role for my break._

_But you saw fit to interfere and now I see fit to repay you in kind. I hope you like the photograph I've sent you; it's a sample from a collection. It's amazing how much young girls are willing to tell you or what they're willing to do if you ply them with enough drink. Don't worry; __the picture isn't for me. __I have a more refined taste in women, as you well know._

_No, this rather, shall we say, interesting photo is for the man she's been having an affair with. You remember the producer of your film, don't you? Billy_ _Farren? __It seems they got together on the set._

_Can you imagine the headlines, __Miss Bennet, especially considering Billy is a married man with children? __What will his__ poor wife think?_

_I guess it's fairly certain the Bennet family and all its history will be turned inside out. They'll __drag out every sordid detail about your father, your mother, all the Bennet sisters and, most especially, you. _

_You shouldn't have crossed me. With Darcy it may have been mercenary as well as personal, but I assure you with you it has been entirely personal. I've already worked out a deal with a journalist for the photos.__ I look forward to seeing them as well as your face in the papers by the end of the week._

_Goodbye, Miss Bennet. It's been a pleasure, as always._

_Wickham._

Darcy reached for the photograph Wickham was referring to. It lay face down on the table. He studied it closely; it was quite clearly Lydia Bennet dressed provocatively in skimpy underwear and nothing else.

Lizzy at that point stepped out of the bathroom, and seeing Darcy holding the letter in one hand and the photograph in the other, she hurried over to him and snatched the picture from his hand. Overcome with anger and grief, she tore it to shreds. 'Stupid…stupid… stupid girl…!'

It horrified her that he could be looking at the picture. She felt so ashamed it might as well have been her instead of Lydia.

The torn pieces fell like crude confetti all over table, and Lizzy suddenly felt so exposed and vulnerable in front of this man, she collapsed likewise in the chair.

'Have you read the letter…?' she asked him quietly at length. It took her a while to form the words.

'Yes…I'm so sorry…' Darcy likewise had trouble knowing what to say.

'How could he do this…? How could anybody be so cruel? Do you know he sent a similar letter and picture to my mother…can you imagine any mother seeing her sixteen-year-old daughter like that?'

Darcy pulled up a chair close to her. He reached out and took her hand gently. She did not pull her hand away and seemed almost grateful for the touch. Looking up at him pathetically, she was at a loss to understand what had happened.

'But Billy Farren? What was she thinking…? He's old enough to be her father…my God, he is a father! He has two children, doesn't he?'

Darcy had to nod to confirm it. 'I hate to be the one who has to tell you this, but Billy's done this before.'

Lizzy couldn't believe what she was hearing. 'What…?'

'It was a long time ago. He got entangled with some young actress…' He vainly tried to offer some consolation.

'Why didn't I know anything about this?' she implored him. She was desperately looking for answers.

He pressed her hand reassuringly. Her forlorn appearance made him want to hold her, but he smiled instead and spoke gently, 'He's good at his job, the studios have long kept it quiet…'

Lizzy shrugged. 'Well, not anymore. Wickham is sending the pictures to the press. Within a week the whole world will know…' Lizzy tried to compose herself, but her efforts only resulted in a strangled sob. 'Stupid, selfish Lydia…she's ruined _everything_. '

Lizzy searched Darcy's expression. She wondered if he knew what she meant by everything. 'Wickham is right, isn't he…? We both know the abject morality of this place, Lydia will never work in this business again…and neither will anyone remotely connected with her.' She laughed quietly. 'After all the stories, who's going to risk having a Bennet on the set…?' Lizzy's eyes were overflowing with tears as they met Darcy's. He knew what she was saying: her career was over.

He wanted so much to hold her, to comfort her and kiss her. Assure her that he would make everything alright…and just when it looked like Lizzy was wishing for the same thing and offering no resistance, the door flew open and in rolled Mr Collins!

Darcy jumped back in surprise and stood up so quickly that his chair fell backwards; it met the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Lizzy looked up at him regretfully. The instant her eyes met his accusing, hurt ones she knew….she knew it was all over. Whatever decision she had sat up that night making, she knew the instant Darcy saw Collins was still in her life, it was over.

Mr Collins appeared not to notice the intimate manner in which Darcy and Lizzy had been sitting. He was red and out of breath. 'Right, my dear, the bags are packed and in the car. Your father is downstairs and we're all ready to go…'

Darcy was devastated, yet he kept his voice deliberately cold and distant. 'You're leaving…?'

'Yes. Sorry, Darcy, but there's some urgent business at home.' Mr Collins looked towards Lizzy and vainly tried to invent some lie.

'He knows…' she spoke softly; she could not bear to look up.

'Oh…?' Collins appeared hurt. He wondered why she should confide in this man; after all, it wasn't as if he were family, or soon to be.

'Yes, I told him…' Lizzy met Darcy's gaze briefly. 'We have to go. Mother is in near hysterics and I don't think Jane should have to cope with that on her own.'

Again that steady tone from him, Lizzy closed her eyes against it, 'I suppose I ought to be going. I'm sorry. I wish that I could do something to help, but I'm not going to burden you with vain wishes and hopes, which you probably think I express merely to gain your thanks…'

He walked towards the door but turned and looked back at Lizzy. She hadn't moved at all. She looked up at him and he held her gaze tightly. 'This probably means Georgiana won't be seeing you today?'

Lizzy shook her head remorsefully. She longed to tell him that Mr Collins being here was not of her choosing; he had only arrived that morning because Mrs Bennet had sent him to bring her home, it was nothing more…it meant nothing more. But she couldn't; the hard glint in his eye assured her that she was too late…again.

The words would barely come. 'No…tell her I'm sorry but…just say…'

'I know what to say…' and with that he was gone. And Lizzy's heart went with him.

'Do you think it was wise to confide in him…?' Mr Collins' voice brought her back to the present situation.

She snapped angrily at him. 'Of course! I didn't mean to; he just happened to be there when I needed someone, and I'm glad…either way…there isn't a man in the world I trust more with such a secret…'

* * *

It's funny, Lizzy thought, how you only realise you've found your little piece of heaven when you've fallen out of it. She sat in the back of the car, quiet, alone and looking out of the window. Lizzy truly believed she had found her piece of heaven, and it was here at Pemberley Theatre…with Darcy. But Lizzy hadn't fallen out of her little piece of heaven, she'd been pushed, through the shortcomings and lack of restraint of a sister, and the maliciousness of Wickham. 

It was only now she realised how much she loved him, when it was all too late. She should have told him how she felt last night, after they had kissed; that was the right decision.

He had told her then that his feelings for her would never change, but that was before, and maybe they could in the face of her relative's odious weaknesses and her own reluctance to make a choice. Mr Collins could not have made his reappearance at a worse time.

And why had she been afraid to make that choice? Sure, they were both passionate people with differing views on the world, and no doubt they would fight like cats and dogs but, and here was the insight that hurt the most, Lizzy realised she would rather spend a lifetime fighting with Darcy than pretending she loved any other man.

A solitary tear rolled down her cheek.


	18. Mr Collin's Little Deception

_A/N: Yes, I'm back a little later than planned to finish the story off at last. Thankyou to all who've stuck around waiting for the end, here's part 18, sorry for the wait._**  
**

** Part 18- 'Mr Collins' little deception….'  
**

Lizzy arrived home late in the afternoon that very same day. She took a deep breath before she crossed the threshold of her own front door. She could imagine the scenes that were awaiting her, and she wished to be a million miles away. She closed her eyes and berated herself for being so selfish. There would be time enough to grieve for what was lost, but for now she had to be there for the family. She would be… if she wanted to mourn, it would have to be in private.

Mrs Bennet was in exactly the state Lizzy had described to Darcy: nearing hysterics. She was crying and cursing in equal measures. Lizzy could hear her voice drifting down the stairs to her in the hallway where she stood.

She refused to leave her room and everybody had to go up to see her. Mrs Bennet cut a pitiful sight; she sat in her dressing gown being attended by Mary, Kitty and Jane. Lizzy joined the fray and spent the remainder of the day pretending to listen to her mother's continuing laments and soothing her own aching heart.

There seemed to be a ticking clock hanging over them all. Wickham had promised the pictures would be in the papers by the end of the week, and they had already lost two days. It was in anticipation of the crowds of reporters that were sure to turn up at their doorstep that the whole family took refuge in the back room of the house. They had little time to work out how best to handle the publicity that was to come. Both Mr Collins and Bingley had turned up to offer their support to the family and their respective fiancées.

Mrs Bennet had still not learnt how to control her crying. 'I don't know what could have happened,' She looked about the room at the sullen faces. 'I know she is not that type of girl…'

Mary snorted in reply. Jane looked at her sharply. 'You're not helping…' She sighed and shook her head, 'Can't imagine what Lydia was thinking, he's old enough to be her father.'

Jane's words mirrored exactly what Lizzy had said to Darcy. A painful remembrance caused her to reply more angrily than she intended, 'Lydia _doesn't_ think that's the problem…she's always been a spoilt, selfish brat who's never cared about anyone but herself!'

'Lizzy…!' Jane was amazed at the resentment in her sister's voice. But Lizzy was determined to speak her mind.

'It's true…thanks to her, everything is ruined…' It was impossible for the whole room not to notice the strength of sorrow apparent in her words.

Mrs Bennet thought it time to begin her lamenting again, but this time she sought to apportion blame, and certainly not where it was deserved. She looked towards Mr Bennet with a menacing eye.

'Is it surprising she sought a father figure considering her own was not around much…?'

Mr Bennet looked up at her sharply. Jane instinctively reached for Bingley's hand; finding it, she clasped it in her own. The whole room was descending into anarchy. Lizzy instinctively moved out of range from Mr Collins lest he likewise be arrested by a moment of tenderness and reach for _her _hand.

Mr Bennet, instead of offering a witty retort as his wife expected, slowly got up from the chair he had been sitting in quietly, and without a word left the room. Lizzy noted the painful look creasing his face as he left, and her heart ached all the more.

'We're all to blame…' she began quietly, 'for indulging her and pampering her' she looked around the room accusing each of them in turn, 'for allowing her to become the sort of girl who flirts with anything with a pulse…who doesn't think of the consequences of her actions, and now we're all going to pay for it.' She followed her father's example and left the room.

She walked quickly across the hallway and to the door of her father's study. This was his sanctuary; he rarely invited anyone in, and today was no exception. She saw him sitting with a large bottle of whisky by his side; he looked up and saw her in the doorway. She attempted to smile at him, and though he may have been touched by her concern he nonetheless got up and quietly closed the door to her.

Far from being hurt, Lizzy understood it completely. Mrs Bennet's words had struck a chord with him; they confirmed suspicions he had already been having about his record as a father. He felt his wife, for once in her life, to be right; he had failed them all miserably. Lydia's wildness and unchecked behaviour was as much his fault as hers. He had much to be ashamed of. It was the sort of realisation not even the soothing words of a favourite daughter could do away. He had preferred to dismiss her therefore than even let her try.

Lizzy went up to her own room, and locking the door behind her, tried her hardest to fight back the tears. She was not left alone for long, however; there soon came a gentle knock on the door.

'I want to be alone…' she called out. The voice that came back made her smile and change her mind.

'It's me, Jane…Lizzy, please open the door.' Lizzy did gladly. Seeing Jane filled with so much tender emotion for her made Lizzy realise just how much she'd missed her sister. She threw her arms about her and hugged her fiercely.

They sat down on her bed, and after a lengthy, soothing silence began at long last to talk as they had used to. Lizzy was sorry for the ill way she had used her sister.

'I have been such a fool, Jane…you have every right to think ill of me.'

Jane pressed her hand and smiled at her. 'I don't think ill of you…'

'No…but perhaps you might think better of me if I told you I was seriously reconsidering my engagement to Mr Collins,' Lizzy waited in anticipation for Jane's reply to this statement.

Jane nodded in understanding. 'You know I only want what makes you happy…'

'I know…' Lizzy sighed and thought of Darcy, and just how far true happiness had eluded and continued to elude her.

'Jane, I still don't understand any of this. Never mind how the affair with Billy came about…how did Wickham find out about it?'

Jane turned away from her and began to wring her hands nervously. 'Lizzy it's entirely my fault…I'm to blame.' Jane was crying. 'Soon after you left on your holiday, Wickham came here. He was friendly and good-natured with all the family and…and I was stupid enough to think that he might have changed.' She did not think herself deserving of any comfort and so shook off any Lizzy tried to offer. 'I should have known, Lizzy, when I saw him constantly with Lydia, when I saw the confidences he was sharing particularly with her and the pains he was taking to form a friendship…I should have known, but I didn't even begin to guess what he was really up to…I should've told the family…'

Lizzy was stern and firm in her reply, 'It is not your fault! Nor is it mine or Darcy's or anyone else's who might have been unfortunate enough to be taken in by Wickham's lies. If you think staying silent has led to this then you might as well hand over my proportionate share of the blame. I knew as much as you and stayed silent…'

'On my stupid advice…'

Lizzy hugged her sister again. 'Your advice is never stupid, Jane. In fact…there are times when you are more right than you could ever know,' She was thinking inevitably of Darcy again.

Jane caught the sorrowful tone in her sister's voice and wondered at it. 'Lizzy…what is it…something you need to talk about?'

'Yes…' she smiled sadly, 'but not right now…I wouldn't make much sense, it's still too painful, but right now, we have other things to worry about…'

* * *

Mr Collins was never very comfortable in family crises, and he was even more incompetent where the family was not yet his own. He sat awkwardly where Lizzy had left him, and was debating whether to go up after her or leave altogether. He was wary of her temper, but there was really nothing to tempt him to stay in the room any longer. Bingley stood by the window, pensive and reflective; the mother had gone back to lamenting, albeit a little more quietly. The daughters took up their own literary pursuits, Kitty with her i _Hello_ /i magazine and Mary with Milton's _Paradise Lost._ No one appeared willing or in the mood for talk, so Collins was eternally grateful when his phone rang. 

He hurried outside to the garden to answer it. The voice on the other end, though familiar, was still a surprise for him to hear.

'Mr Collins, this is Darcy…Look, I'm sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but I have information regarding the Bennets. I wonder if you could meet me for a coffee…?'

'I suppose I could…should I bring Lizzy or Bingley…?'

'No…!' Darcy practically shouted down the phone at him. Mr Collins was a little taken aback. 'I would appreciate it if you came alone…' he spoke lower this time.

'Alright…' Darcy promptly gave him the address and hung up.

Collins shook his head in bewilderment; still, he was curious as to what Darcy could have to say. Anything was better than having to sit with the Bennet family again.

* * *

Mr Collins sat stunned at the narrative he had just heard. It amazed him that Darcy could have done so much in so little time. The two days that the Bennets had been awaiting the dreaded inevitable, Darcy had sought out and found the wayward fugitive sister. He handed him a short scrap piece of paper covered in hastily written scrawl. 

'Here is the address where Lydia and Farren are staying. It's a small cottage on the coast, a holiday home, I suppose. I've already spoken to them both. Billy was easily persuaded to do the right thing, especially when I told him he risked his career with the all the exposure that was coming. Lydia took a little more working on, though I think the fact that Farren was willing to give her up so readily made her see things more clearly.

'Anyway…you must go and bring her home…'

Collins was more than a little puzzled; he took the paper from him and asked, 'Why are you doing this…? If you've already spoken to them, why didn't you bring her back yourself…?' Although seeing Darcy unwilling to relent to his questioning, he asked all the same, 'I mean, if you brought her back, the Bennets would love you forever, but instead you're offering me the chance to excel in their eyes…why?'

Darcy sighed and appeared to be in pain as he spoke. 'I have a high regard for the Bennets, Lizzy and her father especially, but I think they would regard my interference as intrusive and odious, seeing as I am not connected to the family as closely as… i _you. /i _Besides, Miss Bennet has clearly indicated her future lies with you, and as I could never do anything but wish that future to be a happy one, I think her believing you to be the saviour of her sister and the Bennet name would serve a greater purpose.'

At Mr Collins still looking none the wiser, Darcy added a final sentence of persuasion. 'Miss Bennet will be all the more thankful to you…'

Collins smiled in understanding at last; Darcy was offering him the chance to get Lizzy at last. Even as dense and self-deluding as he was, Collins could not deny the signs that she had been beginning to look and sound as if she regretted their engagement. He had been in dread of her calling it off, but now…

'And you don't want any recognition at all…?' The offer still appeared too good to be true.

'No…' Darcy shook his head adamantly. 'In fact, that is my condition…I insist on anonymity…'

Mr Collins grinned broadly. 'Alright, I'll do it, but you must know, Darcy…that this deception does not come easily to me.'

Darcy saw right through Collins' self-effacement and attempts at false modesty. 'Of course, with your being the very essence of morality and truth, I'd think such a deception must be torturous for you…'

Collins did not note the subtle sarcastic in Darcy's voice. He thought only of the happiness that awaited him on account of Elizabeth Bennet's impending and eternal gratitude.

* * *

Ensuring the return of Lydia Bennet to the family fold may have proved the easier task, compared to what lay ahead. There was still the matter of keeping the photos from reaching the public eye. It was on that undertaking that Darcy set off soon after meeting with Collins. 

Getting the name of the reporter to whom Wickham had sold the photographs proved a near-impossible task. Given some well-placed misinformation and a little help from friends in the public eye, Darcy eventually got a name: Heidi Marchant.

She was the well-known, well-established reporter of a high-brow society magazine. How she had gotten to know Wickham then was beyond him.

She had eventually agreed to meet him for lunch; she had insisted on the restaurant of her choosing and insisted that he paid. Darcy now sat in the corner of the room, at a darkly lit table, looking at Miss Marchant with curiosity. She was not a particularly noticeable woman, there was nothing to make her stand out from the crowd; in fact, her rather diminutive stature would probably ensure she got lost in it instead. Her mousy brown hair was swept back into a ponytail, and her face framed by some overly large glasses.

He smiled his best, handsome actor smile at her. She was not buying it.

'Mr Darcy, I'm a very busy woman…what is it that you want..?'

He cleared his throat, and stated briefly, 'I want you to drop this story about Lydia Bennet and her family…'

At first Miss Marchant merely looked at him with her characteristic non-responsive glare before she burst out laughing. Her mirth was beginning to draw the attention of the other diners.

'And why would I do that, why would I drop the biggest story of the year…simply because Fitzwilliam Darcy demands it? I'm afraid you've been too used to dwelling on your own self-worth. I'm afraid what Mr Darcy wants is not what Mr Darcy will get…'

Darcy smiled at her; he did not think this would be easy. He leaned in close to her. 'I'll make you a deal: you give me the pictures and anything else Wickham gave you…and I'll give you a story that'll blow this thing out of the water,'

He could see he had her interest now; she eyed him sceptically. 'For something to blow this out of the water, it'll have to be a hell of a story…'

Darcy sat back coolly. 'Believe me, it is…we're talking lies, affairs…and a missing diva…'

Miss Marchant tried to play it equally cool. 'Then there's the money I paid Wickham for the pictures…that'll have to be reimbursed.'

'Of course…I'll double what you gave him…' Seeing her wavering still, Darcy pressed his point home, '…and I'll give you the biggest story for years…I'll give you a world exclusive…your editor will love you for it, believe me…'

'Okay…you've got me interested. This has better be good.' She poured the wine into her glass and offered him some. He declined.

'I'm offering you the first interview with the renowned Diva Carmen Rosetta…'

She sipped her drink slowly, and raising an eyebrow, declared it to be impossible. 'Carmen Rosetta hasn't been seen in over eight years! She announced she wasn't going to do any more appearances, and certainly no more interviews…What makes you think she's changed her mind?'

'She's changed her mind for me…' Darcy spoke confidently. 'As well as the interview, she's going to perform on opening night at my theatre, in the lead role…'

'You don't expect me to believe that, why would she…why would she after eight years suddenly make her reappearance for you?'

Darcy smiled quietly, 'My father gave Rosetta her first break at Pemberley, he helped launch her career…and she's my mother.'

It was a good thing the wine Heidi had ordered was white, because on hearing those words of Darcy's she spluttered in shock and sent fine droplets of the stuff spewing all over the tablecloth. She wiped her mouth and the table hurriedly.

'She's your…mother?' She stared at him wide-eyed.

Darcy remained as calm as ever. 'Yes, Carmen Rosetta is my real mother…'

'How…I mean…' Heidi was having trouble forming words.

'Rosetta was barely known in those days when she started at my father's theatre. He worked to make her a star, and she showed her gratitude. They had an affair, and she became pregnant with me. By then my father and Anne Darcy had been told they couldn't have children, but my father wanted an heir, Anne desperately wanted a child and Rosetta wanted her career, so in the end it all worked out perfectly for them. Everybody got what they wanted…'

Heidi was riveted by his story. 'And Georgiana Darcy…?'

'Georgiana is my half-sister, her mother is Anne Darcy…but this has nothing to do with her. I want her left out of it.'

'This is amazing…'

'I thought it'd get you interested, and as I suppose you'll be requiring proof, you can hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak…Rosetta will tell you all in that first interview I promised you.'

'You're willing to do all this, for some pictures…?' She could not believe what she was hearing.

'Yes…' Darcy leaned forward again. 'That's all I want…'

Heidi shook her head, 'You do know what all this will mean? Your life, Pemberley Theatre, everything about you is going to be under the microscope…'

'I know…but it's alright…' Darcy shrugged. 'I think I will have that glass of wine, thanks…' It was hard to tell whose hands were shaking more, Heidi's as she poured or Darcy's as he drank.

'But why…why are you doing this?'

He smiled. 'Rosetta craves the limelight again, and what will get her more attention than…'

'Than an affair with Percival Darcy, the very royalty of theatre…' she finished the sentence for him. 'I never took you as much of a humanitarian Darcy, yet you're willing to expose your life for a returning Diva, and a girl stupid enough to get involved with Billy Farren. Lydia Bennet can't mean all that much to you to risk all this…'

'You're right, I don't care much for the likes of Lydia Bennet, but there are others connected to her who don't deserve such exposure.'

Heidi with all her journalistic insight believed she finally understood. 'Such as the sister, Elizabeth Bennet, your co-star?'

Darcy smiled sadly. 'Yes…but it's not just that. This is also about my father. I'm sick of the world holding him in such high esteem. It's about time the world saw him for what he really was…as fallible and mortal as everybody else. I'm sick of living up to a name that was less than perfect in the first place.'

'Alright…' Heidi had heard enough, 'you've persuaded me…you can have the pictures, _when _I get my interview with Rosetta…'

Darcy protested but she insisted, 'That's my condition. Those pictures are my only security at the moment…'

'Fine, it's a deal…' They shook hands on it.


	19. Lizzy Mounts A Rescue

** Part 19- 'Lizzy mounts a rescue…'  
**

**'**It's extremely troublesome to be so obligated and thankful to a man one has been determined to dislike.' Mr Bennet sighed, propping his head on his arm.

Lizzy smiled. She went over to him and began to rub his shoulders. They had both locked themselves in his study to avoid seeing either Mr Collins or the surprise he had brought with him a few days ago: Lydia.

'But we do have to be thankful to him; he did find Lydia and bring her back.' Lizzy went and stood by the window.

'Yes…yes, but it's not as if Lydia has even changed at all. One would think being used and abandoned like she was would endue something of the humility or restraint she sorely lacks, but she's as loud as she ever was…I've lately begun to wish Collins would have left her there'

Lizzy laughed. It was true, Lydia hadn't changed; she behaved as if she had done nothing wrong. 'You don't mean that, dad. At least with Lydia here, we can contain this somewhat, even though…there are still those pictures to contend with…'

She crossed her arms tightly. Those pictures…that picture, the one Darcy had seen.

The thought that he knew about all this still haunted her, and hurt her.

Her father seemed to read her thoughts. He came and stood next to her. 'Have you heard from him at all?'

She shook her head sadly, 'No…nothing at all, I haven't heard from him…or of him.'

'Oh, Lizzy…' her father hugged her. She buried her face deep in his shoulder.

He comforted her for a while before holding her at arm's length and looking intently at her. 'It may be extremely troublesome, Lizzy, but I believe I can be obsequious and grateful enough to Collins for both of us,' he smiled slyly, 'and should I at any time find myself faltering, I'm sure any one or other of the family will take up the charge.'

Lizzy knew what he meant, 'You don't need to worry. I wasn't going to carry on my engagement with Mr Collins out of a misplaced sense of gratitude.'

'Good, I'm glad to hear it.'

Lizzy smiled and lightly kissed his cheek before taking her leave.

* * *

Lizzy was in earnest about her engagement to Collins. In her heart it had long been over, and it was not that she needed courage to tell him so, she merely needed the opportunity. She thought it rather strange, but she was certain Collins was avoiding her. He seemed constantly on the move; ever since he had brought back Lydia, he appeared to be filled with even more nervous energy than usual. 

Now, try as she might, Lizzy could not find him anywhere about the house. She inquired of Jane, who was returning from the garden, if she had seen Collins there. Jane shook her head, 'Sorry, Lizzy, but no.'

Giving up, Lizzy made her way upstairs before Jane called her back, 'Lizzy…I almost forgot, there's a letter here for you.'

Lizzy stopped and smiled. Perhaps he had written to her after all, maybe Darcy had found a way to forgive her… She raced down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

* * *

The letter was not from Darcy. Lizzy knew that from the moment she had spied it in Jane's hands. It was too big, a large brown envelope, and it was heavy, sure to contain more than a few sheets of paper. 

Jane had excitedly declared it to be a script from another studio company, but Lizzy had resolutely shot that idea down. No, this 'package', almost, was something else. Lizzy had hurried off with it to her own room. She had opened it cautiously, almost afraid of what it might contain. Now seeing the contents strewn over her bed, she sat down and began to read fervently.

There was a magazine, a letter and some photographs…Lydia! These were the pictures Wickham had been talking about, the sordid little collection. But how…? The explanation she would find in the letter. It had no date, no opening greeting, it simply started:

_I've never been too fond of actors, __Miss Bennet. The __ones I have been around have always impressed me as being vain and pretentious. I mean, __who considers standing in front of a camera and delivering lines to be an art?_

_But lately, I have met an actor who has forced me to __challenge my own prejudices, and has given me reason to change my view: Fitzwilliam Darcy. It would be an understatement, Miss Bennet,__ to say that I don't think I have ever met anyone as selfless._

_He has put his whole life on public view __so that you and your __family do not suffer. _

_Do you know he actively sought out your sister? I believe he had to bribe Wickham for the address. As if that were not enough, __he then set about finding me out __in order to buy back the pictures, as well as giving me the story of the year. All so that the one about your sister would not see the light of day._

_You can read the story for yourself. Sensational __as it is, I have tried to be kind, evidence perhaps of the indelible effect Darcy has had on me. Believe me,__ Miss Bennet, I am as ruthless as they come. Emotion __has never before found a way to hinder my words, but in this case it has._

_I do not think the tabloids are going to be as kind or sentimental, professional __jealousy is an ugly thing. They __will not be forgiving the fact that the scoop did not go to them._

_Darcy also has other worries, I am told. Given __his financial standing with Pemberley Theatre's Board, __I do not think that they will look kindly on the fact that he perhaps did not consult them before going to the press. I am not sure what they will do._

_And his reasons for doing all this, risking it all like this? Naturally, __I asked, and his answers were all reasonable enough. He blames himself for not telling the world what Wickham was truly like. __I think he takes on too much. Wickham is a snake who __can charm the birds out of the trees and I __doubt anyone would believe a word against him._

_I must admit to having become quite fond of your __Mr Darcy, and a little worried. Given __his heritage and somewhat noble lineage is now in doubt, I fear this makes his position as owner of Pemberley Theatre untenable,__ to say the least. Miss Bennet,__ they will be out for his blood. Lady Catherine will no doubt have something to say about it._

_Finally, I think I can go through __the whole of this life, __Miss Bennet, and never be so fortunate as to come across a man who would champion a cause on my behalf __even half __as passionately and devoutly as Darcy has done yours. If I did, __I would be a very happy woman._

_I am ridiculously envious of you. With regard__ to the photos, these are the only copies and they are yours. You __can rest assured the story about your sister won't be appearing in any paper. Darcy explicitly instructed that they be sent to him, but…_

_Good luck,__ Miss Bennet, and be kind to our poor Darcy, or at least do not make him wait for you too long._

Lizzy could not believe what she was reading; it took her another reading of the letter to make any sense of it at all. Darcy had done all this? Why…for her? Heidi Marchant certainly believed it was for her; she longed to believe it was, but would not allow the hope to creep into her heart.

But what did she mean by his heritage? She took up the magazine and began to read. The names and pictures all whirled around her head; Carmen Rosetta was Darcy's mother…? Almost as soon as she understood what that sentence meant, she knew what it implicated for Darcy…he was in trouble.

Her love for him spurred her on to act. She was going to save him, but first things first, she thought…time to be rid of Collins for good. She flung the door open and hurried down the stairs. She caught Collins sneaking down the hall.

'Mr Collins…stop right there…!' Her voice, intentionally loud and demanding, made him do just that. He turned to her with a weak smile. The rest of the family emerged also. 'Y-yes, dear….?' he stammered.

She approached him slowly. 'Mr Collins…Edward, you never really told us how you managed to find Lydia. I mean, we are all extremely grateful that you did, but you've never told us how you knew just where to look?'

Mr Collins shrugged disarmingly; he looked at everyone in turn, smiling pathetically at each, while Lydia smirked knowingly at him. 'It's not important, surely?'

But Lizzy was insistent, 'Of course it is…surely we should know all the trouble you went to, so we know just how grateful we should be…or should that be to _whom _ we should be grateful?'

Mr Collins tilted his head to one side, looking sheepish. 'Lizzy….?'

'You despicable, odious…. toad of a man…how could you? How could you take the credit for something you didn't even do?'

'Lizzy…' However much Mr Bennet was enjoying Collins' discomfort, he felt he would enjoy it better if he knew the reasons behind it.

'It was Mr Darcy!' she cried with energy, 'it was Mr Darcy that took the trouble to find Lydia! He bribed Wickham to tell him where she was, Mr Collins had nothing to do with it.'

'Darcy asked me to do it!' Collins thought it best to offer some sort of defence, '…he gave me the address and asked me to get her. And to pretend that it had been all my own doing, he insisted on his anonymity…I swear it.'

Lizzy was shaking her head. Collins watched in horror as she wrested his engagement ring from her finger. 'What are you doing…?'

'Something I should have had the courage to do a long time ago' she grabbed his hand and pressed his ring into it, 'this engagement is off!'

* * *

Lizzy breathed in deeply and nervously. It had been a busy night, and this morning was going to be worse. She had set her heart on saving Darcy, but it was not until she had read the morning papers that she realised the mammoth task it would prove. 

Heidi Marchant had not been wrong when she had said the tabloids would be unkind; they were positively vitriolic. It seemed Darcy was the one being punished for his father's ill-advised affair with the Diva. Every sordid detail, Darcy's own past relationships, truthful or otherwise, all were being played out for the common gossip of the common man. It was degrading and humiliating, and Lizzy felt every word almost as painfully as if it had been written about her.

But stories would pass, memories would fade, the fickle nature of the public ensured that within a couple of months no doubt they would have another affair to speak of; it was Darcy's position with the board that had to be saved.

She needed reinforcements and called Darcy's cousin Robert to gather all the members of the committee together. That was the first part of her plan; the second part she explained hurriedly to both Jane and Bingley and left in their capable hands.

There was one other person whose help she needed, but whom she was reluctant to ask: Georgiana. It was not that Lizzy did not trust her, but with her being so young, Lizzy had doubts as to whether she would be able to perform as necessary. But Lizzy had no choice. She called Georgiana.

* * *

Georgiana sat at breakfast that morning, likewise poring over the morning papers. The phone calls she had received regarding the stories about her brother were far from pleasant. 

'Georgiana, you shouldn't be reading that…' She hadn't noticed her brother enter the room. He took the paper away from her. 'It's a pile of rubbish.'

'So it isn't true…?' Georgiana held out a glimmer of hope.

'The tabloids are hardly the embodiment of truth, Georgiana, you should know that.' He poured himself a cup of strong black coffee.

'Stop trying to protect me, Darcy I have a right to know,' She looked at him directly.

'You don't need to know. It doesn't concern you.' He hardly even looked up from his cup.

She was angry that he could have sprung something like this on her. 'Doesn't concern me? He was my father as well…'

Darcy did at last look up. He hadn't counted on her being angry. 'I know, but all this, everything they write about doesn't matter. All you have to know is that he loved you very much, it's all that matters…'

Georgiana sighed. She got up and went over to where her brother sat and hugged him closely. 'It's not that…that isn't what I'm upset about, it's you…' Darcy looked at her closely for an explanation.

She had tears in her eyes. 'I know I may have been young, Darcy, but I remember…I remember the way he treated you. How hard he was, the way he pushed and pressured you, and expected so much, all the time. I used to cry about it, because it was so unfair, the way he treated you…why, why did he do that?'

Darcy could not help but be touched by the strength of Georgiana's attachment to him; he felt his own tears sting his eyes as he suddenly hugged her close to him.

'I don't know, maybe he thought of me as the mistake he couldn't get rid of, whatever the reason, it's all in the past.'

'But it's not, is it?' she mumbled into his shoulder, 'it's here…'

They stood this way in silence for some time, until Georgiana's ringing phone roused them into life again.

Darcy kissed his sister lightly before leaving the room. Georgiana sadly watched him go. She answered her phone with some abruptness, fully expecting it to be yet another journalist. It wasn't.

'Hello…Georgiana, it's Lizzy, Elizabeth Bennet. Look, I got your number from your cousin Robert, I really need your help…'

* * *

_ A/N: So Lizzy finally does what every reviewer has been praying for since she accepted Mr Collins, the engagement is off. The next chapters are the last of this story, they are both endings, different endings to this same story, but since I have still to start writing the alternative ending I'll wait till the last post to explain better, meanwhile enjoy!_


	20. Too Much And Too Late finis

_A/N : Well here it is the end at last, or at least one of the endings. You have to understand I wrote this story nearly a year ago and at that time I couldn't see this story finishing any other way. For those of you who've read this story elsewhere will know why I add this word of warning, if you like your stories with the normal canon P&P endings part 20 is not for you. Instead I urge you to wait for the alternative ending which I hope to post within a couple of days._**  
**

**Part 20- 'Too much and too**** late…' (Finis)  
**

Lizzy stood nervously in front of the assembled board members. This was infinitely worse than auditioning, she decided. There was more at stake here. They weren't impressed, Lizzy could tell; their eyes, wide and unmoving, simply stared back at her. It seemed her words were hardly being heard at all. In desperation, she looked to the back of the room and sought Robert's eyes. He did his best to encourage her.

All her best laid plans, getting Marcie on board, setting Jane and Bingley to the task of organising food and drinks, making sure Georgiana knew to keep Darcy away for the rest of the day…all this, and she had not counted on this board being the biggest obstacle.

She implored them with every ounce of her being, 'Look, we've all read the papers, we know the stories. But Darcy's record speaks for itself; this theatre is only a success because of the work _he _has put into it. No one could have given more to this place or run it half as well…'

She was interrupted by a stocky, well-built man who seemed to have been poured into his ill-fitting suit. 'Miss Bennet, we acknowledge Darcy's contribution and appreciate your efforts on his behalf, but the facts remain…'

Lizzy suddenly spoke in a flash of anger, 'What facts? You can hardly blame him for his father's faults!' She sighed and resolved to speak calmly. 'I was surprised when Robert told me that most of you haven't even met Darcy, not properly. You don't know what he really is, then…All I'm asking is that you attend this evening and get to know him. Believe me, when you see him in a true light…'

She almost added they would fall in love with him as she had, but stopped herself. She smiled at them. 'At worst, you'll get an evening of free drinks…'

* * *

Darcy sat back in the car and looked questioningly at his sister. 'Georgiana, what's going on?' He tugged at his sleeve and collar. 'Why are we all dressed up?' 

She smiled sweetly at him. 'Patience, darling brother…I promise it'll become clear soon enough.'

'Please…Georgiana, I'm really not in the mood. I got all done up in this suit because you insisted, and now I'm being driven half way round Derbyshire for God knows what…'

'Don't you trust me?' Georgiana took hold of his hand. 'We've had a great day, haven't we…like it used to be?'

He smiled, 'Yes, like it used to be, just you and me…maybe we should make that a more permanent thing…'

Georgiana noted the curious tone in his voice. 'What do you mean…?'

He turned to look out of the window. 'I'm tired…tired of everything. Do you know there are days when all I want is to go to sleep and never have to wake up…just to slip away…'

'Darcy…!' Georgiana was shocked at the way he spoke. Never in her life had she heard her brother speak so despairingly.

'I'm sorry, but these past few days…it's been so hard, but maybe it's my way out. The board might insist that a true Darcy take over the ownership of Pemberley, which would mean either you, or Robert, if they think you're too young…'

'Well, I won't do it, and neither will Robert!' Georgiana exclaimed angrily.

'There may not be a choice…and to tell you the truth, I don't think it'll be all too hard to let the place go…'

'She'll make it right…she has to…' Darcy barely heard the last words his sister muttered.

* * *

Darcy stepped out of the car and looked up at Pemberley Theatre, the place he had just been lamenting to his sister. Only, he had never seen it look like this. The outside seemed to be decked out in a thousand lights, bathed in an ethereal glow that started at the top and flowed down the stone steps. 

'Georgiana…what's going on?' he asked with some trepidation. She linked arms with him and squeezed reassuringly.

'This is us…doing something for you for a change, and making things right.'

'Us…?'

She didn't answer and instead moved up the stairs. 'Come on, Darcy. It's cold.'

He followed her slowly, unsure. The doors swung open and Darcy, upon surveying the scene of regimented, formal dancing in front of him, was sure he had stepped into a Jane Austen novel. Women dressed in long flowing gowns, a multitude of swaying, moving colours held close by men dressed in suits and tails, looking decidedly more comfortable than he was at the moment.

He stood a little dumbstruck, rooted to the entrance, unsure of taking another step forward. Georgiana wore a broad smile which did little to abate his discomfort. Robert suddenly appeared by his side, with Lizzy on his arm.

'Well, here she is, the belle of the ball…' Georgiana kissed Lizzy lightly in greeting. 'Aren't you going to say how well she looks, Darcy?'

Darcy couldn't find the words to express how well he thought she looked. He simply stared at her. She wore an off-shoulder, classic black dress of the most sensuous silk and her smooth ivory skin glowed underneath all the lights.

'What…are you doing here?' He looked around him, at the room, at Robert and Georgiana and back to Lizzy's smiling eyes. Robert, taking Georgiana by the arm, left them alone to talk.

'Well, imagine my surprise when Robert tells me that Darcy hasn't even met the men and women charged with running his life, so…knowing how charmingly inept you are at making a good first impression I'm going to give you a crash course in making people fall in love with you!' She linked her arm in his and eased him into the room.

'Lizzy…please, I want to know what's going on…' He was getting impatient.

She tried her best to reassure him. 'And you will. Come on, I want to introduce you to a few people.' She practically had to drag him farther.

'Now…' she began, casting a critical eye about the room, 'the one thing people love to talk about is themselves. I've done most of the research; all you have to do is remember a few details.'

'Details…?' Darcy raised a brow sceptically.

'Yes, details…' she confirmed, 'we can begin accordingly.' She pointed out a thin, wiry man approaching them at no great distance. He had a pretty young woman on his arm. Lizzy leaned close and whispered hurriedly to him, 'This is Henry Hutchins. His father held the position on the board before he died and passed it onto him. Georgiana and I are convinced he's gay but the woman on his arm is supposed to be his fiancée. So I guess he has a pretty large closet to climb out of still…'

All this information she conveyed to Darcy before Hutchins and his unsuspecting bride-to-be joined them. 'Darcy!' Hutchins exclaimed and thrust out his hand, looking up at Darcy with a more than warm expression that perhaps betrayed the fact that he had started the evening a little earlier than everyone else. Indeed, the glass he held now looked less than steady.

If Lizzy had thought Darcy might be shocked, if nothing else, into making an effort, she was sorely disappointed. He merely gave Hutchins a weak smile and a nod before saying, 'I'm sorry, please excuse me…' and walking off without another word. Lizzy was left to make her many red-faced apologies.

She followed after him as he pushed his way hurriedly through the crowd and out of the French doors onto the balcony. She saw him gasping for breath. Not wishing to be disturbed, she closed the doors behind her.

'Are you alright?' She stepped closer to him. It was cold and she had no wrap, but it was not the weather that made her shiver as she approached him tentatively.

'No…' She struggled to hear him over the sound of merriment inside. 'Why are you doing this? How…?' He had turned to face her suddenly; the look on his face was certainly not the reaction Lizzy had hoped for.

'It was easy enough.' She smiled weakly at him. 'Robert helped me persuade the board members to come. Marcie got all the crew and cast from the film to make up the numbers, and she contacted the press. Jane and Bingley helped with the food and drink…and Georgiana, she had to keep you away for the day…'

He shook his head, 'No… _why _ are you doing this, why are you trying to save me?'

'After what you did…for Lydia, for me…this, this is nothing…' Lizzy stepped closer to him still. She looked up at him, full of smiles and thanks.

But he didn't smile; his face fell. 'How did you even find out about that?'

'Heidi Marchant…'

He didn't let her finish. 'This is precisely why I didn't want you to know. I don't want you to be grateful.' The despair in his voice confused her. 'I didn't want you to do all this, just to thank me…'

'I'm not doing this just to thank you…' Lizzy was at a loss to understand. Every step she took towards him, he seemed to take one backwards in retreat.

'No? Then why, why go to all this trouble…'

'It's not just to thank you, it's…it's because…because I love you…' There; it was out. But, again, his reaction was certainly not the one Lizzy had anticipated.

He seemed to grow angry. 'No, you don't…you shouldn't say things you don't mean…' He turned away from her and went to lean heavily against the huge Corinthian column at the far end of the terrace. His shoulders sagged and he appeared to be in pain.

'Do you know, I think it might have been something somebody said, or maybe I read it somewhere, I can't remember, but it was something like, "To truly overcome sadness, one must allow hope to die…'' Lizzy stood close to him; she had to strain to hear the words, he spoke in such hushed tones.

'I realised that's how I've been living twenty-two of my twenty-eight years. Ever since I found out who I really was, that's how I've been living my life. Letting hope die.'

He looked up and met her confused gaze with a determined one of his own. 'That is, until I met you…you broke my heart, Lizzy, _twice_…' The sorrow he breathed into that word brought the sting of tears to her eyes.

'But it's my own fault…' he gestured in pain, 'I forgot to live by the rule. I should have given up hope the first time you said no. You see, I've been killing hope all my life, breaking it off and letting it wither away, letting it die. I gave up hope that my father would ever look at me with anything beyond mere disdain, long gave up hope that this place, these people would finally accept me once they found out who or what I really was…and gave up hope that you could ever love me the way that I have loved you…'

Lizzy's heart choked, 'Have loved….?' No more…?

'I'm sorry, Lizzy, it's too late. I can't do this anymore; I can't…I won't. It hurts too much…'

'Alright…' Lizzy's tears were overflowing now. She struggled to speak. Her despair threatened to overwhelm her. 'You want to know how much I love you and the ways I love you? I love you so much that I can't sleep at night, because I keep thinking that I might have blown my chances with you…and then my throat closes up and I can't breathe because of it.'

She took hold of his arm and forced him to look at her. 'I love you so much that the idea of not being around you everyday leaves this gaping hole in my chest and I feel sick. I love you in the way that makes me a little gladder every moment, because you thought I was special enough to love at one point…' She breathed in deeply in an effort to compose herself. 'Now, you're right…if that isn't the way that you love me, then you're right, I can't love you the way you want me to…I can only love you the way I know how…but if that isn't enough…'

She finished at last. He smiled sadly at her, and taking her hands in his own, he brought them both up to his lips. As he pressed them against his face and kissed them reverently once more, she thought she felt the faintest brush of a cold tear. He relinquished her touch at last, letting her hands drop.

He gently whispered, 'It's not enough…I'm sorry.' The chill in the air wrapped itself around Lizzy's heart as she watched him walk away. He didn't look back.

* * *

Darcy had had enough. He was ready to run to the nearest cliff kicking and screaming. He hated the way he had left things with Lizzy, but it was too late, too late to go back. 

He had crossed quickly to the car park. Having managed to avoid being seen, he had demanded the keys from the chauffer Georgiana had hired to bring them to the party, intending to drive himself.

'Fitzwilliam Darcy, don't you dare get into that car!' The voice, instantly recognisable, stopped him dead. Lady Catherine. She had managed to find him; somehow she always did. She was in that infamous grey suit that now almost seemed like a second skin to her, that always gave her that added air of gravitas and severity.

But today, even in the pale, sickly moonlight, he realised he hadn't cowered before her as he had in the past. Something was different, and in that moment between her crossing over to him with characteristic heavy-footedness and standing in front of him angrily waving a newspaper, somewhere in between those lost few seconds he realised…he wasn't afraid of her anymore.

And it was a heavenly feeling, beyond redemption, beyond freedom…beyond the joy of simply being alive.

The smile he wore only served to enrage her all the more. 'Have you read these headlines? It's not enough that they spread lies about the Darcy family, but this…this really is going beyond the pale!' She thrust the paper at him to read.

Even in the dim light he made out the words easily enough.

'_Barely a few days after the scandal of his father's affair with the renowned Diva Carmen Rosetta, and the consequent revelations regarding his parentage, it seems Fitzwilliam Darcy has become embroiled in a scandal of the heart of his very own. _

_Rumours regarding the sensational break-up of the engagement between Elizabeth Bennet and Edward Collins point to a third involvement in the affair: __Darcy. It appears the co-stars became passionately involved, __a matter which led the young actress to break off her prior engagement. By all accounts a new engagement may have already been formed by the two…'  
_

Darcy smiled wryly as he read, but he faced Lady Catherine with a determined, serious look. 'This isn't true. Miss Bennet and I are not engaged to be married, nor are we ever likely to be…'

But she was not so easily appeased; Darcy had made promises of this sort before. 'I should hope not, because, believe me, I will have no scruples in revealing to this board, tonight if I have to, the small matter of the twenty thousand pounds you stole.'

Despite the anger rising within him every minute, Darcy endeavoured to speak with composure. 'Go ahead. It doesn't matter anymore. You've read the other stories, I'm sure. With all the publicity this has created, the fact that Rosetta is going to make her reappearance here, do you really think the board is going to care about twenty thousand pounds?' He grinned sadistically at her. Now it was Lady Catherine's turn to be afraid of him. He boldly stepped forward.

'Ticket sales alone will more than double that sum…the stories, the headlines, the pictures…why would they care about twenty thousand pounds when they easily stand to make two hundred thousand by the end of it all? You've underestimated the greed and avarice of your fellow members; nothing could really affect them, no sense of morality, when each one stands to make a small fortune….'

Lady Catherine first turned pale and then an angry shade of red. 'I don't believe you. Those stories…they're lies!'

Darcy shook his head sadly at her. 'No…they're not lies, Lady Catherine. They did have an affair.'

'I don't believe it! My sister Anne would never have consented to adopting a…a…'

'A bastard?' Darcy found the word Lady Catherine struggled with. 'But she did. I tried, over the years, to find a resemblance between you and her after she died, but I soon gave up. There isn't anything to find. You don't have her heart…and you could never even begin to understand her kindness and spirit.'

No, he was not afraid of her anymore. He was indifferent towards her at best, and at worst, he resented her. But there was still one more thing to do. He reached inside the car, leaned over to the glove compartment and pulled out a fat wad of papers. He had hidden them in there from Georgiana, fully intending to retrieve them at the end of the day and post them in the morning. He had not anticipated Georgiana bringing him back to Pemberley, to this party, or that he would meet Lady Catherine here.

'But I am tired of fighting you, Lady Catherine, tired of answering to you at every turn, for every aspect, for every reason and every choice…so here.' He held the papers out to her. 'I had my solicitor draw up the papers a few days ago. I've been holding onto them since, God knows why…I meant to post them. This is what you've been fighting me for; this is what you really want, so here it is. The deeds and ownership to this place are yours. Pemberley Theatre…is yours.'

Lady Catherine was in a suitable state of shock. She reached out cautiously, lest it should all turn out to be a cruel trick and he should snatch the papers away again. But it was not a trick; Darcy stood firm and relinquished it all readily. He turned to climb into the car, but not without a final word.

'I could pretend to be noble about it, and wish you all the luck with this place, but I can't and I won't. I can only hope Pemberley Theatre is as accursed for you as it has been for me. Goodbye, Lady Catherine. I hope you've finally got everything you wanted.' And with that he turned on his heel, seated himself resolutely in the car and drove off.

* * *

_The much-delayed__ premiere of the film 'The Framed Rose' finally took place yesterday among a noticeably muted audience. There were no flashing light bulbs, no red carpet and no heavily made-up __women in incredibly short dresses._

_No, this unveiling was an entirely sombre affair, given the tragic circumstances surrounding one of its lead actors, Fitzwilliam Darcy. The premiere was notable merely for the lack of attendance; perhaps predictably, __there was no Elizabeth Bennet, and Robert Fitzwilliam, Darcy's cousin,__ also stayed away. The only surprise appearance was that of the director of the film, __Harry Kilton. He __by no means looked well, appearing gaunt and tired; it seems __his break up with long-term __girlfriend Marcie Cross, as well as the strain of filming, has taken its toll __on him._

_Some have questioned the appropriateness of releasing the film so soon after the decisive verdict from__ the coroner. But at least the verdict has put__ to rest some ghosts, nearly a whole year after his death, only to reveal __what most of us have suspected all along. The conspiracy theories, the tall tales, all must now be put away in favour of the verdict that it was, after all, __suicide._

_Given the witnesses'__ statements that the car had not slowed down, the lack of skid marks on the road, the position of the driver, his obvious lack of attempt at an escape indicated by the fact that __he still wore his seatbelt, __and his sister's own tearful admittance of Darcy's little-known __battle with depression, the overwhelming evidence __must and have __led to the conclusion __that Fitzwilliam Darcy did __drive off that bridge deliberately;__ he did take his own life._

_As for the film itself, it has taken a macabre, an almost urban-legend-like __notoriety. That is a shame, __for it has been declared by many a critic to be a masterpiece. The chemistry between the leads is alive, the costumes sumptuous and the story wholly engrossing. _

_But one feels the film will be seen for entirely different reasons, and by an entirely different audience: __those wishing to catch the last glimpses of a magnificent actor and perhaps marvel at how the heartbreaking story of doomed lovers Celia and Rupert has come to mirror so completely the equally heartbreaking story __of Fitzwilliam Darcy and the woman he by all accounts loved, Elizabeth Bennet.'  
_

* * *

Years later, when Heidi Marchant took it upon herself to write the autobiography of the oft-lamented and dearly missed Fitzwilliam Darcy, she thought it best to update the stories of the main characters in his tragically short life. 

Her work inevitably became a best seller; how sad that even after Darcy's death, his life or at least the contents of it were still at mercy of others. For Heidi took liberties; she had to, however impressed she may have been by him; she had, after all, met him only once.

She wrote in a style emotionally draining for the reader, straining every incident and maximising the anxiety. Regarding his death, 'It is rather cruelly ironic that at the very point Georgiana Darcy and others were working to save his career, Darcy was ending his life, plunging into the cold darkness, and finally embracing the demons that had for so long haunted his every waking hour…'

Heidi's updates included paragraphs on Collins, Wickham, Georgiana and Lady Catherine. The only other person she included at any length was Lizzy.

Of Mr Collins she stated that it turned out he was not too broken-hearted by Lizzy's breaking off their engagement. Within a few months he was engaged again, this time to the daughter of the manager of the hotel where he had stayed, Lucas Lodge. His new fiancée, Charlotte Lucas, was said to be a well-meaning though simple girl and Collins found that suited him just fine. He was tired of clever, witty women; they gave him concussions and made his nose bleed.

As for Wickham, it comforted many a reader to know that he got perhaps exactly what he deserved. Heidi revealed that if one travelled to the small town of Aldhulme, in the northeast of Manchester, and took pains to eat at one of the fast food restaurants there, one may be, should we say, lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the roguish George Wickham. His ill-gotten gains had not served him well; the money was soon gone. But look closely enough, peer with an intense scrutiny at the man dressed in the giant chicken suit outside the restaurant and you may perhaps recognise the eyes staring back at you. And yes, it is our much hated snake, Wickham.

Poor Georgiana; in the year she realised her whole family dynamic was nothing more than a lie, she had to deal with the death of a brother she loved as dearly as life itself. She came to rely heavily on her cousin, Robert Fitzwilliam. They married, but it was by no means the healthiest of unions considering Georgiana's utter emotional dependence on her husband.

Lady Catherine had at last what she had fought so bitterly with her nephew to obtain. But divine justice has a way of working its spell. She may have had a head for finances and all things monetary, but she had no passion for the theatre, and Pemberley soon suffered from the lack of soul Darcy had breathed into the place. Within a few years, she would be forced to sell up and declare herself bankrupt.

And Carmen Rosetta, well, what can life teach a Diva heartless enough to give up a child without a second thought, and suddenly make her reappearance purely for selfish gain? Apparently nothing; she went on to have an illustrious career, charming and bewitching the multitude of admirers with her heavenly voice as she went.

Elizabeth Bennet never acted, nor did she ever fall in love again. She chose to devote the rest of her life abroad, on rebuilding projects around the world helping people affected by war and strife. A noble undertaking but with an ignoble incentive, as Lizzy became living testament to the belief that the way to overcome heartache of ones own problems is to surround yourself with people who have bigger ones.

The latter half of Heidi's book was devoted to the short-lived love affair between Darcy and Lizzy. To her credit, she wrote with a tenderness that showed even she was capable of emotion.

Before taking his final tragic, decisive steps Darcy had apparently written a lengthy letter to Lizzy, and it was after much petitioning and begging that Heidi finally got Lizzy to allow her to quote some paragraphs of it in her book. It is fitting then that she concluded the autobiography in Darcy's own tender words to the woman he loved.

_I never realised how true it was, that you can know someone for all your life and never truly know them. Or in our case, film with them a year and never truly know them. We made love on screen, Lizzy, __and yet we never knew each other, not really._

_But I have since realised __it doesn't take a year or even a lifetime, it takes a moment. A moment of true intimacy, of knowing and loving so completely that even if it lasts for mere seconds, it is a feeling, an attachment that will suffice for a lifetime._

_I have known such a moment, and it was with you, in a kiss in the corridor of a hotel, outside your room,__ where I told you that my feelings for you would never change...and they never will._

_I want to thank you, Elizabeth Bennet, for making me one of those rare, fortunate human beings on this earth that has known and shared sentiment which will last forever, a lifetime.  
_

* * *

_'Nobody does the right thing…'_

_Whether you choose to condemn Darcy for his cowardice or commend him for finally having the courage to let it all go, the above missive is perhaps a lesson of life. And perhaps the reason why nearly all the characters in this story deserve to be miserable._

_Though I offer my apologies for killing off one of the most beloved men of 19th Century literature, men like Darcy with a soul as generous and a heart as feeling, never truly belong to this world of constant demands and disappointments._

_Now, as this author's note threatens to be as long as the story itself, it only leaves for me to add my profuse thanks to my beta for this story Sandy Williams, whose hard work has been as unstinting as it is beyond thanks._

_And a final word of thanks to those who have taken the time to follow the story, I hope you're not too disappointed._

_Lots of love as always, Claire Hart. _


	21. The Alternative Ending

_A/N: So here it is, the alternative ending I promised. But first a note about the original ending, reading the varied responses was 'interesting' to say the least! Whether you were disappointed or dismayed, sad or tearful or just plain annoyed by the end, from your reviews I gather you were at least not indifferent. And as a writer that's all I can ever hope for, to gain some sort of reaction. Thank you all for taking the time to read and review this story, it is very much appreciated. What you have to understand about the Darcy in this story is he is not the Darcy of the original P&P, not entirely, that Darcy had a secure loving family unit. Director's Cut Darcy was abandoned by a mother and rejected by a father, he was human, fallible and weak and suffering from depression. It was sad that he couldn't find a way out except taking his own life. Some say that is out of character, perhaps it is, but suicide is never predictable and always shocking, it is regrettable that he couldn't let it all go, he was lonely, but by the end I hope you understand he wasn't afraid. _

_Besides it's just a story, you can take it or leave it, you can move on, unfortunately for so many when it comes to depression and suicide that isn't the case.  
_

_Well at least this ending leaves the way open for a sequel. I do have in mind telling the story of the Darcy's strained married life under an intense media spotlight, and an unplanned pregnancy. which will involve the characters I missed out here namely Caroline Bingley and Charlotte.__ Finally a special mention to **humor my lips **who was the first reviewer for two of the stories I posted. Her enthusiasm gave me the encouragement I needed. LOL._

* * *

**Part 21- 'All The Right Words...' **

'No, I think that would look best on the side of the stage,' Lizzy gestured frantically with her arms. 'Yes…yes, that's perfect.' It had to be perfect; Darcy needed it. And she needed Darcy. It was a simple revelation now, one that sat a little easier on her heart. There was still the anxious worry, wondering perhaps if his attentions, his love had waned and that she, that what she was doing now, was perhaps too little and too late. Heidi's letter had in turns both soothed and added to those worries; had he sacrificed everything for her, or had he done it all in the name of propriety, a wish to finally be seen to be doing the right thing?

And inevitably it was the heart that was the enemy. It whispered words of both reassurance and doubt, and through it all would not let go, refused to let go. Because she had to know. Even if in the end he rejected her, or, as she dared to dream, loved her still, either way she would never have a moment's peace until she could ascertain whether he was _her _Mr Darcy still, or whether this would prove to be by far the biggest moment of regret in her young life.

So she worked diligently over the next few days, recruiting Jane and Bingley, barely having to ask Robert before his assistance was declared to be at her disposal, even recruiting Marcie to her cause and Georgiana as well, dear Georgiana who would have the most important job of the evening, that of persuading her brother to attend.

Lizzy poured all her efforts into arranging this charity dinner. Persuading the various members of the Pemberley Theatre Committee had been an easier task than she had anticipated. The prospect of a free dinner had no doubt done all the enticing, but still the speech she had to give had been one of the most difficult. She spoke passionately, pleading and persuading them all in turn that this would not only be fantastic publicity for the Theatre but also that the whole idea of the event had been conceived first and foremost by the forever charitable Mr Darcy.

She strongly suggested that with all the insinuations and rumours surrounding the Darcy family, this would be the ideal opportunity for the world to see events in a better light. Lizzy, using all her acting ability, had gone on to tell them as sincerely and as humbly as possible that Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy was anxious for the board to see him in a different light as well. Mr Darcy, she explained, was well aware of how his aloofness and his distance may have given reason for others to have the view that he was proud and, daresay, obnoxious, but he wished to assure the esteemed panel that he was far from either. It would be to his utter delight if the patrons of the renowned Pemberley Theatre would be so kind as to attend.

The speech went a long way to rendering Lizzy nauseous. That she should have to explain the actions and character of a man like Darcy to a panel that had nothing but an economic outlook on life was painful, but it seemed her efforts paid off. Every single member of the board promised to attend. If anything, they thought it curious that Darcy's co-star had gone so far to help him, given their well-publicised dislike of each other.

The charity event was all set then, and Lizzy was to be found on the day in question hastily gesturing for a sculptured artwork of flowers to be placed on the other side of the stage. She had gone back, back to the beginning, and she hoped the memory would not prove to be painful for either one of them.

She had arranged for the dinner to be held at the Herington Estate. The significance of the romantic setting was not lost on her. Celia first declared her love for Rupert here; perhaps if she were fortunate, she might be allowed to do the same. Of course that was her private longing; her avowed intent, what she allowed the world to see, was to help an actor friend who was sadly misjudged.

'Do you really think this is going to make any difference?' The voice suddenly calling out behind her seemed to expose every private fear she was having, and she half-wondered if the sound was actually real or her mind playing tricks. She turned around. It was no trick, no laughing matter, and certainly not where Lady Catherine was concerned.

As she studied the fearsome matriarch, Lizzy wondered how she could have ever compared her to her nephew. The older woman wore a condescending expression, with her arms crossed and not a crease in her trademark grey suit.

She smiled cruelly. 'Miss Bennet, it has been a while, but I see you're as ambitious as ever.'

Lizzy refused to be intimidated and smiled sweetly at her. 'Lady Catherine, what a surprise seeing _you _ here. I forget; were you actually invited?'

The older woman's smile slipped a little and she pushed her glasses further up her nose. 'As a member of the committee my invite was already a given, as you well know, or perhaps you don't, seeing as how you saw fit to call a meeting in my absence. Imagine my surprise when I found what Miss Bennet had planned.'

'Imagine…' Lizzy repeated with some incredulity. She smiled and shook her head. 'I don't suppose your Ladyship has come to offer her help and her unwavering support?'

Lady Catherine didn't return her smile. Instead she held up a newspaper for Lizzy to inspect. 'I suppose you must think very well of yourself.' She didn't bother to wait for a reply but handed the paper to Lizzy, who set about reading the article in earnest. Lady Catherine waited until she had finished, choosing to be wholly disbelieving at Lizzy's clearly puzzled expression. 'You probably congratulate yourself on quite a coup, Miss Bennet.'

Lizzy, confused and flustered, had not a clue what to make of her feelings towards what she had just read, and replied with some impatience, 'Lady Catherine, believe me I have no idea what you're referring to.'

Her Ladyship snatched the paper back from her. 'Do you expect me to believe that this…this rumour isn't something that you and your family have no doubt industriously circulated by yourselves?' Seeing Lizzy adamant still, she began to read:

'_Barely a few days after the scandal of his father's affair with the renowned Diva Carmen Rosetta, and the consequent revelations regarding his parentage, it seems Fitzwilliam Darcy has become embroiled in a scandal of the heart of his very own. _

_Rumours regarding the sensational break-up of the engagement between Elizabeth Bennet and Edward Collins point to a third involvement in the affair: Darcy. It appears the co-stars became passionately involved, a matter which led the young actress to break off her prior engagement. By all accounts a new engagement may have already been formed by the two…'  
_

'Do you deny it?' Lady Catherine demanded of her.

Lizzy shook her head. She honestly did not know what to make of the article; she knew it was a falsehood but her heart screamed for it to be true. She wondered how all her wishes could be printed so clearly in black and white for the world to see. Had it been so clear to the rest of the world, was it so apparent to everyone else? Had they seen what she had denied her heart for so long? And could it be his interest was valid enough still, enough to warrant a newspaper article and a visit from his deranged aunt? She supposed for a few moments that was what it could surely be and for those moments hope flooded her senses once more. But reason, sanity and logic brought her back down to earth. The story had no doubt been inspired by the fact that her sister and his best friend were engaged, and where there was one marriage left the romantics clamouring and eager to quickly ensure another.

'Have you broken off your engagement to Mr Collins?' Lady Catherine's insistent tone finally grated enough to make her crash landing into cold reality complete.

'In all truth, your Ladyship, I hardly see how that is any of your business.' Lizzy grew flustered once more and walked away hoping Lady Catherine would become as indignant at her rudeness as to simply give up on any further conversation. But Lizzy ought to have remembered Lady Catherine was as resilient as her own mother and equally as abrasive.

Her Ladyship hurried after her. 'You know it won't work, any of this. It won't help …you _can't _get him back.' Lizzy stopped dead in her tracks, and her Ladyship was triumphant; she believed she could interpret perfectly the slight tremble that now affected Lizzy. She strode purposefully and slowly covered the short distance between them, circling Lizzy carefully before coming to stand once more before her.

'I know the tabloids. They may not always be sacrosanct, but I also know there's never any smoke without fire.' She roved her satirical eye over Lizzy's still form, sizing her up, assessing just how much of a threat this girl really was. 'Darcy is foolish enough to wear his heart on his sleeve, no doubt enough to ask a girl to marry him before he's even asked her on a date, and before he's even sure of her feelings…' Lady Catherine actually allowed herself a small chuckle, and never had Lizzy been more inclined to violence towards this woman than now, when every single one of her words was cutting like a knife through her heart.

'But you see I've already spoken to him, considering the revelations in the papers and the part he has played in dragging the noble Darcy name through the filth. He very well knows the precarious position he now finds himself in. As such he's already assured me that he will do whatever it takes to make things right… _whatever _ it takes.'

Lizzy honestly did not know what to say. It seemed as if Lady Catherine's triumph was complete. She knew how the old matriarch felt towards her, and for Lady Catherine to be so assured about Darcy doing whatever it took, he must have confirmed to her what Lizzy always dreaded: Darcy had given up on her.

'You're right, Miss Bennet; the flowers do look better on this side of the stage.' The smile Lady Catherine wore could not be mistaken, it was akin to an old war general who was happy to sound a trumpet and raise the victory flag…no matter how dirty she had fought.

* * *

Darcy lazed back in the car, sighed tiredly and half-closed his eyes. Georgiana sat beside him and was equally well rested. 'You know taking that break to Scotland may have been your best idea yet.' Darcy turned his smiling gaze towards his sister. 

She beamed back at him. 'I know. All that peace and quiet, no televisions, no radio, no newspapers…just gentle slopes, dense thickets and Loch Dundreggan, pure bliss.' She named their holiday spot for the last weekend with a poor attempt at a Scottish accent.

Darcy's smile faded and he pulled at his black tie disdainfully. 'And then you had to go and spoil it all by agreeing to a stupid dinner party. Would an emigration to Scotland really have been such a bad idea?'

Georgiana sat up and taking her brother firmly by his tie pulled him to sit upright as well. 'I'd already accepted the invite before we went away, and, besides, you don't have to be so grumpy about it. You never know, dear brother, you might even enjoy it. It is for charity, and everybody'll be there.'

Darcy snorted his reply, 'Yes, everybody, anybody who's got their latest single to promote, or a book they've just published or a new film just about ready to premier. I'm sure they'll be there, doing their bit, slapping each other on the back for just how 'charitable' they're being.'

Georgiana smiled and shook her head. 'You know, Darcy, cynicism is such an ugly emotion.'

Darcy turned to look out of their window just as the car pulled into the long driveway of the Herington Estate. 'So is pretence,' he muttered under his breath.

* * *

He remembered the first time they had filmed at Herington Estate. He had been impressed by it then, but now its beauty almost floored him. He had never seen the place look like this. The front of the building seemed aglow, bathed in an almost ethereal light; the view to behold was spectacular. 

'Darcy, hurry up! It's cold. Let's get inside.' It was only Georgiana's insistent tugging of his arm that brought him back to the present. And then it was the all too familiar habit of hurrying past the army of photographers parked outside, with head bent and only the slightest strained smile. Try as he might, he was certain he was never going to get used to the sound of flashing bulbs.

If Darcy had thought the outside was special, the inside exceeded all expectations. The Herington Estate had a particular layout: all entrances from outside of the house opened up to the spectacular entrance hall, a magnificent hexagonal structure with black and white geometric patterned marble floor and flanked with imposing stately columns, and every interior door from here led further into different wings of the house. The hall, built entirely to leave a lasting impression on its viewer, was less like a hall and more akin to a ballroom.

And tonight that same hall was magical, filled to the brim with everything that was elegant. The whole place was awash with colour, a thousand different shades of a thousand different dresses, red, purple, black and gold, but even as he scanned the room his eye was only ever going to settle on one particular shade, one particular dress, and one very special woman: Lizzy.

She saw him enter almost as soon as his eye had sought her, standing with Robert. She allowed Robert to escort her to where both he and his sister stood. She looked amazing; it was all Darcy could do to stop his jaw hitting the floor. Wearing a thin-strap satin green dress, the material flowed with every step she took; she looked unearthly with the long dress adding to her seamless radiant elegance. He gulped down his surprise at seeing her here. Having heard of her breaking off the engagement, he had in turns lived in hope and disappointment, but all the time finding himself too much of a coward to go and find out what her answer would be if he asked again.

His conversation with Lady Catherine had put away all hope for a while and he had gladly made his escape to the Scottish highlands. Her words haunted him still, _'She's not the girl for you, __Darcy, but she's already made that clear, __hasn't she?'_ His retort that she knew nothing of the matter had only earned him an infuriatingly false sympathetic gaze, _'Come on, Darcy! Anybody can see the way you pined after the girl. Have __you really convinced yourself she feels anything for you? But if you find my words difficult to believe __then go, tell her how you feel. There's __no Mr Collins now, nothing to stand in your way. But ask yourself this: __could you handle the disappointment a second time?'  
_

And there it was, the question that stayed his hand and checked his emotions: could he stand her breaking his heart once more? Maybe he was about to find out.

'Georgiana, what's going on?' He turned to his sister for an explanation.

She smiled sweetly at him. Robert and Lizzy had reached them as well and he looked at each of them in turn before casting his eye over the hall once more. Georgiana pressed his arm. 'Welcome to your charity dinner.'

'Mine?' Darcy replied, rightly confused.

'Yes, an event thought of, organised and orchestrated with a little help from his friends, by the selfless, benevolent and community-spirited Fitzwilliam Darcy to provide the disadvantaged troubled youth with an outlet in the creative arts,' Georgiana finished with a flourish.

Darcy couldn't help but be frustrated by it all. 'I'm sorry, but will someone tell me exactly what is going on here?' Georgiana was set to speak again and explain further but Darcy stopped her with a look and a pointed raising of his finger. 'And without the confusing amateur dramatics, please.'

Lizzy wisely stepped in and, kissing Georgiana lightly on the cheek in greeting, smiled. 'Let me take over, Georgiana. You've done fantastically. Thank you.' Georgiana, taking the hint, smiled and moved to take Robert's free arm, but not before throwing a final comment to Darcy over her shoulder, 'You could at least compliment her on how well she looks instead of just staring at her like that.'

Lizzy allowed herself a small chuckle while Darcy turned an uncomfortable shade of red.

'She's right, of course,' Darcy spoke in a hushed tone.

With the devoted way he looked at her, Lizzy was convinced they were the only two in the whole room.

'You look amazing, Lizzy.'

'Thank you.' She smiled shyly, aware that his gaze was uniquely intense. She gladly took the arm he offered and moved forward with him into the crowd.

He spoke close to her ear, 'Will you please tell me what this is?'

She pressed closer to him so he could hear her over the noise. 'Given all the negative publicity you've gotten over the past weeks, and the fact that none of it is your fault, I wanted them to see what you're really like.' She nodded and smiled in greeting to the various guests as she spoke. She could see the surprise in their eyes in seeing her practically clinging to the arm of Darcy. As well as their wonder she believed she detected a furthering of their respect, and all because of just who Darcy was.

Darcy smiled as well, albeit a strained smile. The whole situation was still as confusing as ever, but he knew what facing a crowd meant; the smile had to be a constant. 'What I'm really like?' he questioned.

'Yes,' Lizzy replied eagerly, 'how generous and kind, and truly selfless, and nobody ever knowing that because you take such pains to hide it. Which in turn means naive young women end up making rash and harsh judgements because, like so many others, they've failed to look beyond the surface before it's too late.'

Darcy looked down at her; she was speaking to him and him alone. Her hand she had removed from his arm and instead had slipped further down to hold tightly onto his hand. Her perfect, slender fingers wound tightly within his fingers, and looking close into her adoring face Darcy believed he had never been so close to happiness. But doubt weighed heavily on his heart and he disbelieved still.

'This is all for you, Darcy; just go with it.' She looked up at him, encouraging him all the while.

But he shook his head. 'I can't, Lizzy. I don't know what this is. Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to save me?' The questions caught Lizzy by surprise; was he really still unsure of the change in her feelings towards him, or was he just waiting for her to confirm it and make it all real?

'After what you did for my family, what you sacrificed, exposing your family history like that to save us from humiliation, this is nothing.' His reaction to her reply was so very far from what she could have ever hoped for. His face fell and he looked ill, carefully extracting his hand from hers. Shaking his head, he took a step backwards.

'Why that? It would have been so perfect if only…' he stepped close once more and whispered in her ear, 'if only you had said anything else but that. God, Lizzy, why did you ever have to be so bloody grateful?'

His words she barely had time to understand before he stepped back once more and melted into the crowd. Soon he was completely hidden from view and Lizzy was left standing alone and afraid. Was she too late?

And all of a sudden Lizzy was back to remembering the last time he had abandoned her in a room, only at that charity ball she had been angry and ashamed. Now she was confused and in pain. She struggled to fight back the tears that stung and the weight on her chest that made it difficult to breathe. She was watching him slip away from her and it hurt like hell.

'_Fight for him…go out there and fight for him, you idiot!' _ The words resounded so close and she whirled around in shock. There was no one stood behind, certainly no one close enough to whisper in her ear. No, the words were in her head, clamouring to be heard and eventually resorting to screaming. _'Don't let go of him now; __you need him as much as he needs you. You're almost there. That __man risked everything for you, and he'd risk it all again. All you have to do is tell him.'  
_

Lizzy closed her eyes against the onslaught, and upon slowly opening them again saw a sight that made her sure. Her father was stood just a few metres away, surrounded by people, and instead of being filled with disdain for them all as she was sure he would be, she saw him instead smiling broadly. He was looking directly at her and, raising his glass, he nodded. In an instant his words were brought to mind, _'The __right decision isn't that hard to make.'_ Almost subconsciously she pressed a hand to her heart and within the next instant was gone.

Mr Bennet was relieved to see her hurry off in the same direction in which Darcy had disappeared. _'Good for you, my girl,__' _ he thought_, 'a little bit of happiness is something you both deserve. __I can think of worse things than having Mr Darcy as a son-in-l__aw…l__ike Mr Collins instead.' _So pleased was Mr Bennet that Lizzy had finally chosen to follow her heart, that upon spying his wife close at hand and chattering away, he suddenly grabbed her about the waist and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. Her surprise was only mirrored by his own when she kissed him back!

'My dear, if we can work this out then perhaps there's hope for us all.' He smiled down at his wife and for the first moment in their married life, for however short a time it proved to last, he believed he finally understood her. And for Mrs Bennet the epiphany was equally forthcoming, 'I never stopped loving you, whatever I said; you must know I didn't mean it. I was angry…' He nodded and was silent. '_Over to you, __Lizzy.'  
_

* * *

She was tired of holding back. Her feelings for him were not to be dissuaded, and if through some cruel twist of fate he had not deemed it worth fighting for she would at least tell him how she felt. Explain to him how he had changed her mind and her heart at last, let him have his triumph, at least she would have some sort of peace of mind. So she hurried after him determined to speak her mind. Unfortunately for her, someone else had beaten her to it. She saw Darcy stood almost in the centre of the room talking in earnest with his aunt. He looked tired and jaded and the argument Lizzy was sure they were having was being won by Lady Catherine. She edged closer but still found it difficult to make out their words due to the noise of the crowds. 

Seeing Darcy vigorously shake his head and then turn to look at her directly finally forced Lizzy's hand; she moved to intercede, she was going to save Darcy, whether he wanted it or not. But before she had moved even a few steps, she was stopped by a hand on her arm. Whirling on the interfering stranger angrily, to her surprise she perceived a determined-looking Georgiana smiling at her.

'It's my turn now, Lizzy. I've been hiding behind my brother for too long. It's time my dear aunt knew the truth.' Lizzy followed Georgiana's steely gaze towards the arguing pair.

'Georgiana, are you sure? Once Lady Catherine knows, there's no way of taking it back.' Lizzy pressed the younger girl's hand reassuringly.

'I know, and it's fine, Lizzy. Aunt Catherine will just have to live with the fact that the Darcys are a family of fallen angels.' She smiled sweetly and Lizzy had to concede this was the most confident she had ever seen young Georgiana Darcy. But it was a truth Lizzy had come to realise that impassioned like no other, the idea of saving the person one truly loved was intoxicating.

* * *

'I'm tired of this, Lady Catherine. I've already told you there's nothing between me and Miss Bennet, and as far as I can see there won't ever be.' Darcy sighed resignedly; the constant arguments with this woman were taking their toll. And every time the discussion was the same; it seemed as if they were going round in circles. 

'I'm glad to hear it, that you're sensible enough to be aware of your already precarious position to avoid further 'difficulties'. I would hate to be the one to expose your dubious past dealings to the board and especially in so public a place.' Her words dripped with venom and her smile carried all the charm of a snake.

But tonight was different. Darcy was resolute this time, and she wasn't going to intimidate him. For far too long he had been pushed to the brink by her. He had lost too much already. He knew what it was Lady Catherine truly wanted: Pemberley Theatre. And if it would free him of all her interference, her constant sniping and having to answer to her for every decision and at every aspect, he would give the place to her. Anything for a little peace.

'You know it really doesn't matter; I don't care anymore. I'm tired of the board, tired of you and tired of the lies. No, I am not a true Darcy, and in your eyes I have no right to be associated with Pemberley Theatre, so if the place means that much to you to resort to this, then take it, have it and be damned.' The last words he spat at her before an air of calmness washed over him as he realised what he was saying.

To Lady Catherine the offer seemed too good to be true. 'What are you saying, Darcy?'

Darcy smiled at her. 'We both know what this is about, what's it's always been about. You want to own Pemberley Theatre? Fine, I'll sell you my share as well as handing over my position on the board. You can have it all,' Darcy concluded, and felt a little lighter; the heaviness so long pounding on his chest was lifting just a little. 'I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers tomorrow. Congratulations; you've won.'

It dawned on Lady Catherine at last that perhaps Darcy was serious after all. She smiled widely, 'You know I never really believed the stories in the papers. My sister would never have consented to raising another woman's child.'

Darcy laughed outright, surprising her with his reaction. 'It must be very comforting, Lady Catherine, to live in such blissful ignorance. You tell yourself that if it makes you feel any better. The fact is they are true, I am the bastard son of Percival Darcy and Carmen Rosetta, and the only truly glorious thing about that is it absolves me of any relationship with i _you /i ._' He turned to walk away only to come face to face with his sister.

Georgiana was pale and shaking with anger. Darcy at first thought her rage was directed towards him but he was wrong. She took hold of his hand and turned him around to face Lady Catherine once more.

'You know, Aunt, my brother may not be a true Darcy, whatever that means, but I am, and if anybody is going to be inheriting Pemberley Theatre it's going to be me. And if that is the case, if the board out of some madness decides they want me in charge, I know the only other person I'm going to want by my side is my brother Fitzwilliam Darcy.' Georgiana spoke passionately, almost breathlessly.

But Lady Catherine, having already smelt victory, was not about to give up without a fight. 'That's very sweet, Georgiana, that you would defend your—your …brother,' the word seemed to stick in her throat, 'but I do not think you would be as eager to come to his defence if you knew of some of his past misdemeanours.'

'If you're referring to the twenty thousand pounds, Aunt Catherine, I know all about it. It'll surprise you to know, Aunt, that he didn't take that money for himself; it was for me.'

'For you?' repeated Lady Catherine disbelievingly.

'Yes, for me. He took the money not because he had a problem but because I made a mistake. He risked everything to save me from unwelcome press attention, from their sordid, twisted stories, and he saved me from you. All these years, Darcy was selflessly putting up with your blackmailing, manipulative ways to save a sister who through her cowardice has never been strong enough to free him and allow the blame to be rightly apportioned.' Her voice wavered, but only for a moment.

'Georgiana…' Darcy attempted to intercede; it pained him to see her being forced to relive the whole sorry Wickham incident.

But like him Georgiana had found strength, and she longed for the truth to finally be told. 'It's alright, Darcy. It's time she knew. It isn't fair that she hold this over you any longer, because if anyone deserves to be happy, it's my brother. You see, Aunt, it doesn't matter that we don't share a parent. The bond that we have goes beyond merely a bloodline. Whatever you say about our mother, you never truly knew her, not if you believe that she didn't or couldn't love Darcy. She loved him as much as any son like him deserves to be loved.'

Darcy couldn't help but be touched by her words. For far too long he had been used to believing the sins of a father would be visited upon the son. But whatever his father had lacked in the paternal sense, his mother, the woman who had adopted him and brought him up as her own, had proved more than adequate. She had soothed where his father had hurt, had calmed when his indifference had cut Darcy to the core. Anne Darcy had proved more of a mother to him than any woman. It had taken his sister to finally make him see that, callously disowned by a mother, painfully rejected by a father he may have been, but loved he was still.

* * *

Lizzy saw it all and despite all her fears of having lost Darcy, she couldn't help but smile at the way Lady Catherine had been so thoroughly dismissed by Georgiana, of all people. It was too delicious a moment of poetic justice. 

But now it was her turn, her moment with Fitzwilliam Darcy. She couldn't, she wouldn't give up now. Her feet carried her over to stand in front of Darcy before she even knew she had moved, and it killed her to see that even as she stood before him he turned to walk away.

'You know, Darcy, you're too damn proud and too stubborn for your own good. How long are you going to keep running away from me?' she called out after him.

He stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he slowly looked up and smiled sadly at her. 'How did you even find out about what I'd done?' He slowly stepped towards her.

'Heidi. What does it matter? Don't you know what I'm trying to say to you?' Lizzy struggled to contain the emotions overwhelming her senses.

'I know what you're trying to say, Lizzy, but…' he stopped and passed a hand through his ruffled hair.

'But what…what?' she demanded of him. She couldn't understand his reluctance to explain. If he no longer felt anything for her, why didn't he just say it instead of torturing her like this?

'I don't want you to think…I didn't want it to happen like this. That's why I didn't want you to know, because you're doing all this through some sense of gratitude. Saying things you don't mean because you feel as if you're in my debt.' He finished at last and turned to walk away again.

'Is that what you think, saying things like what, that I love you?'

Darcy interrupted her before she got any further, 'Why would you want to? I'm hardly the easiest person to live with, I get angry and depressed, and I push people away. Lizzy, you can't ever know how difficult it gets.'

Lizzy pleaded with him, 'Do you think any of that makes a difference? My feelings for you, all that changed long before Lydia and her affair. I started falling for you before, long before. And then when I thought that maybe I'd lost you, it nearly killed me because I knew that if it was true, I'd lost the love of my life…'

'What…?' Darcy hurried up to her and took her firmly by both arms. 'Say that again.'

Lizzy knew at once what he meant, and she gladly repeated the words, 'Darcy, you are the love of my life.' It was all Darcy really needed to hear. Pulling her close to him, he kissed her fiercely. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing one hand against his cheek and feeling utterly blissful in his crushing embrace.

It was then in that opportune moment that Bingley saw fit to call for his friend, selfless benefactor that he was, to join him on the stage and deliver a speech. Down shone the spotlight on the couple in the middle of the room, utterly lost in each other and completely in love. Suffice it to say the night was a triumph for all.

* * *

_'The Framed Rose opens__ today amid much speculation into the personal life of the two stars. Far from a heated and pointed mutual dislike between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy__, there are even rumours suggesting that they are in fact engaged to be married. Of course there are those who will maintain that the whole rumour of a rift was a calculated publicity stunt as planned and as cynical as this sudden 'engagement'._

_But those __of us who saw the couple's interaction firsthand__ all those months ago even then had to wonder. Yes,__ there was the apparent discomfort and unease from both parties;__ one only has to recall the painful tango at the charity ball, during which Fitzwilliam Darcy's clear dismissal of his co-star led to many an embarrassing headline._

_But isn't there a saying, 'Neve__r did a truer love spring than that which was born __from hate'? __Well,__ perhaps the reports are all wrong, but nobody truly wants to dismiss the romantic within them and allow the conjecture to stand, because after all who's to say the love lives of the rich and famous can't run like a famous novel?_

Darcy opened his eyes slowly and smiled widely. The head resting next to his and the few strands of dark hair that fell on his shoulder only served to confirm what a success the evening promised to be. He turned to look out of the window as familiar sights of London passed.

'What, Darcy, what are you smiling so widely about?' Lizzy raised her head from his shoulder and looked closer at him.

Darcy turned to look at her. 'It's nothing, just the papers had some had pretty interesting headlines today.' Darcy smiled knowingly at her.

Lizzy knew he was referring to the rumours of their engagement. 'I know, I read the same paper.'

'So what do you think?' He spoke in such a careful whisper, Lizzy would have struggled to hear him had she not already known what he was really asking. She decided to be a little mischievous and tease him all the same.

Feigning indifference, she shrugged her shoulders. 'The story was written well enough,' she began. 'Don't know where they got their sources from, though it could be the fact that we've just spent a week in the Bahamas together…' She could get no further as Darcy stopped her with a deliciously lingering kiss that sent shivers down her spine.

Reluctant to break the contact, they were both breathless when he at last broke off the kiss. Pressing his forehead against hers and with his lips only inches from hers, he whispered, 'Lizzy, you know what I'm asking.'

She smiled and nodded, 'I know, but it'll still be nice to hear you say it.'

Darcy with proud resolve took her chin firmly in her hands and spoke in a clear voice, 'Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I love you. Will you marry me?'

Her only response was to nod vigorously, and she gladly melted into his arms as he kissed her again. Having thoroughly ravished her lips they took up their former positions in the car, Darcy leaning back onto the seat and Lizzy snuggled closely in his arms.

It was Lizzy's turn to laugh quietly now. Darcy naturally questioned her, to which she replied, 'It's hard to believe you still love me after all I put you through.' She grew serious then as painful memories threatened to undo all her present mirth. 'Darcy, the way I spoke to you after the first time you proposed, the things I said…I'm so ashamed of myself.'

Lizzy sat up and looked at him earnestly and pressed a hand tenderly to the side of his face. 'Everything with Lydia and Wickham and you having to reveal your past, your family secrets, just to save me—it's a wonder you're still here with me, now.' Lizzy struggled with her emotions and a slight tear formed at the corner of her eye.

Darcy, reaching up, brushed the tear away and pulled her into an embrace. Holding her close, he whispered in her ear, 'You can believe that I love you, that I've long loved you and that I always will love you.'

She smiled at the way he comforted her; he always had all the right words.

Pulling away, he kissed her lightly. 'Never mind what you put me through or what you said. I was an ass then and I probably deserved all of it and more.'

Lizzy laughed slightly, 'Well, I'm not going to argue with that!'

Darcy laughed along with her before leaning back again and pulling Lizzy with him to take her place by his side. She nestled her head in his neck and wrapped her arms about his waist, determined not the smallest gap would remain between them.

'Did my letter change anything of what you thought about me?' Darcy spoke again at length.

Elizabeth sighed. 'Your letter broke my heart, Darcy. Reading it and knowing what you had gone through, as well as all the things I had said to you, I felt awful.'

'Well, I certainly didn't mean for that to happen. I needed to explain myself. I couldn't bear the idea of you thinking so ill of me, or that Wickham could have lied to you so completely.' Darcy kissed the top of her head lightly. 'And I really wanted to make things clear about Jane and Bingley. The fact is I really didn't know how she felt about him, or I would never have…'

Lizzy pressed a hand to his chest. 'Darcy, I know. It's alright; I understand.'

Darcy shook his head. 'It's funny, being an actor you'd think I'd have figured out how to read people's feelings by now, especially seeing as how I mimic them all the time. But in all truth, when it comes to reading the feelings of those I'm close to, I really am useless!'

Elizabeth pulled away from him and sat up. '_You're_ useless…?' she remonstrated, _' I _ got so confused and scared about how I felt about you I almost ended up marrying another man!'

Darcy sat up alongside her and kissed her. 'And you can't imagine how glad I am that didn't happen.'

Lizzy smiled. 'I don't think I would have gone through with it, not really.'

Darcy instead of replying leaned forward and knocked on the screen that separated the passengers from the driver. He spoke low a few words that resulted in the car taking a sharp right and heading away from Leicester Square, the venue for their premiere.

Settling himself beside Lizzy once more, he took one of her hands and began to fiddle with her long, slender fingers. 'I really have a lot to be thankful for to you, Elizabeth Bennet.'

'Really…?' Lizzy enquired. She looked at their hands. It pleased her how perfectly his grasp fit hers; it really seemed as if they were made for each other, two pieces of the same puzzle.

Darcy nodded, 'You see, if you hadn't come after me that night at the dinner and told me how you really felt, I don't think I'd be here today.' Lizzy knew he was referring to his depression, the same illness that had plagued so many of his years. Likewise she knew that however much she wanted to think otherwise, she herself could not prove to be that miracle cure he needed. The long road back from his feeling so low at times would be slow and no doubt painful. But she was with him now, and there was no way she would let him face such darkness alone again.

'It was that bad?' she tentatively inquired of him at last.

Darcy nodded, 'It was worse.'

Lizzy's only response was to pull him into her arms and hold on for dear life. She stroked the back of his neck comfortingly while he buried his face in her hair. They stayed this way for a while, until another turn in the road alerted Lizzy to their change of direction away from their intended destination.

'Darcy, where are we going? We're going to be late; Marcie is going to kill us.'

Darcy smiled mischievously, 'Never mind Marcie. So we're a little late. We can't make an engagement announcement without an engagement ring.'


End file.
